#the tab refreshed on its own and i had to scroll so far to get back to where i was

[hawkinslibrary]

i feel like i'm never gonna catch up in the edit tag ksdnfkj

[writingsbychlo]

sun in the shadows (03)

word count; 12,706

summary; trying to make some headway on the study leads to an interesting revelation, and progress in your friendship with noah.

notes; if this part is a little sucky, I apologise. it was a last minute addition that I created because I realised I wanted to include some extras.

warnings; brief mentions of panic attacks/anxiety, but it’s very mild.

The weather was improving, the drizzle of the winter and the grey skies overhead were getting lighter, the showers of rain were getting less frequent and the winter was moving on. Spring was making itself known, bulbs of daffodils were finally taking root in the soil, and green was sprouting from the earth that had been frozen over and dead only a couple of weeks ago. The watery floors were drying up, limited ice was fading away, and graduation was sitting right on the horizon for you all.

Your fingers flexed around the strap of your bag, rooting through the contents to find a place to slip your file inside, all your notes for the class you’d be having were inside, and there was a blank page for your next session waiting to be filled out. Once it had its place, albeit getting a little bit crumbled against the other content, you removed your wallet, a few coins jingling in the bottom, and you hoped it was enough for two coffees.

There was a coffee stand not too far away, and you were hoping an extra shot of coffee before you went in might get your brain working a little faster. Only a couple of feet ahead of you was a face you recognised, a dark jumper to match dark denim jeans, a pair of boots for motorbike riding that were beginning to scuff along the edges and the toes. He was hanging over his money, a brown bag holding a pretzel and a tall cup, the tell-tale tag of a teabag hanging over the edge, and he walked away.

Joining the back of the line, you watched him go, sitting not far across the quarter with his headphones on, settling on one of the recently repainted memorial benches. He pulled the tab on eh coffee back, opening it up and a cloud of steam left the drink, curling up into the air that still held a slight chill, drifting away to disappear as he blew against the surface of the drink. In his other hand was his phone, scrolling aimlessly on it as a way to keep himself disconnected from everyone else around him and prompt nobody else to join him. His bag was out on the bench too, pushed a short distance from his body in an attempt to take up the rest of the space to deter company.

Ordering a simple set of black coffees, and finding you had just enough change for a muffin too, you waited patiently for your order, an assortment of condiments and the double-chocolate treat you’d paid for being handed to you first. There was a grinding, the slight screech of the machine as it crushed the beans to create two black coffees for you, plastic lids sealed on and two cardboard jackets fastened around them.

Balancing the load between them all, you headed over to him, using your knee to nudge the bag up the bench until it bumped his leg, and he jerked slightly, looking up to see you. Offering him a beam, his narrowed eyes lightened a little, and he sighed. Putting down his phone and moving his bag to the floor, he lifted the headphones away from his ears, and let them hang around his neck. Sitting yourself down, he slumped back into the wood, and you scooted up to sit closer to him, placing the spare coffee you’d bought for Stiles on the floor away from your feet.

“Hey, Noah!” He gave a short nod, still a little uncomfortable, and he turned to face you more. “So, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“How did you know I was here?”

You shrugged, opening up the bag of extras and searching through for a couple of sweetener packets, and a wooden stirrer. “I didn’t. I was just gonna’ grab a coffee before class and head to my hall early, because, y’know, studying at home is distracting.” Your hand waved off the statement, finding the packets you wanted, and clutching your cup between your knees for stability. “So, anyway I was going to text you when I got there, but then I saw you, so I figured I’d come and say ‘hey’!”

“Right.”

“So, hey!” You waved a little before taking the top from your coffee, and leaving it on the bench beside yourself. “I ask once again, what’s your schedule looking like this afternoon?”

“Well, since I am the most popular guy at this college, I’m pretty busy.” He smiled a little at his own joke, particularly when you gave him a laugh, and your brow raised.

“Oh, he’s got jokes today, huh? I like it, I can roll with that.” Tipping the sugar into the cup, you added a couple of packets, before stirring it slowly. “I take it you’re free, then. I was hoping we could squeeze in some study stuff this afternoon. I have a class in a couple of minutes, but I wanted to see if you were free?”

“Well, I’m free all day. I had a six AM class.” His face screwed up at the idea, and you could feel his pain, having spent the entirety of your sophomore year with a teacher who held lectures at six AM so she could avoid her morning sickness before class, and rush home for it afterwards. Professor Anderson going off on her maternity leave was the best thing that had happened to your education that year.

“Great, I’ll sort it with Stiles, and we’ll text you the details.”

“Sounds like a thrill. I can hardly wait.” He smiles, the sarcasm just like his brothers as it came through, and you repaid him for the joke with a chuckle. While the two of you had made progress, you could tell he was still a little unsure around you. You were polar opposites and he didn’t take well to that, the atmosphere that you brought with you could be a little too much for him to handle sometimes, you couldn’t stop the guilt that was eating at you a little. “What’s wrong? You’ve got a look on your face like you want to talk about things. Just warning you, I’m not good at that heart-to-heart stuff.”

“Yeah, I’ve witnessed that.”

“Shut it.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at you childishly, and you grinned cheesily in reply to him. “You can tell me, though. Can’t promise I’ll help, but..”

“It’s nothing weighing me down. I just wanted to apologise. I clearly interrupted your free time. You got yourself a little pretzel to eat in silence, and everything.” He offers you a blank look at your slight dig, and you only winked, waving the muffin in a bag that you’d bought, and taking a sip of your coffee once the lid was sealed back on. “People usually like it when I stop by to see them, I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay, really.” His words were strained, the response bringing you no relief as he forced them out, and your frown remained. “I’m serious, okay? It’s alright.”

You were trying your best but learning the lines with Noah was different to you. Upon starting college you’d been thrown in at the deep end of socialisation and a whole world you’d never quite had access to before. Coming from a smaller town that had always limited your expectations was tough, and you’d taken it differently from the way Noah had. You’d had so many experiences, becoming legal to drink and venturing beyond your comfort zone, truly leaving home and facing the idea of having your life laid out before you, the first time truly having your heartbroken, and being too far to simply collapse into the arms of your mom or dad for support when things got messed up.

“When does your class start?” You jumped, lost in your thoughts as you slumped back into the bench, and you sat up straight again, turning to find that Noah was already looking at you, eyes scanning over you slowly. It was a good reminder, time had been slipping away from you and in the ease of his peaceful and quiet company, you could have sat there for hours.

Checking your watch, you sighed, lifting your bag strap back up onto your shoulder more securely, and packing everything you had with you inside, leaving you to hold a coffee cup in each hand. “In about ten minutes.”

“How about I walk you?” He picked up his bag, swinging it over his shoulder, and you nodded, a warmer feeling at his offer blooming where cold guilt had been. Standing up and making sure not to spill any of the scalding coffee onto your hand. Peering around the busy campus quarters that was more filled now than it had been for months, the lighter weather tempting groups to come out of their dormitories and the cafés to gather outside instead.

He fell into step beside you, toes scuffing occasionally on the slightly uneven stonework of the quad, before it fell away into smooth concrete pathways on the way to your lecture. The grass alongside each path was growing greener, dull colour fading away into something brighter. Paper crinkled beside you, the cup of tea in his hands being finished and the cardboard cup was crushed between string fingers, knuckles even paler than usual as he crumpled it up, and as you approach the closest bin, it was disposed of.

Your fingers flexed around your coffee cup, almost having forgotten that it was there as the heat from the two began to fade away a little. Taking a sip, the refreshing burst of sweetened caffeine was like a spark to your system, and you revelled in it. “How do you take your coffee?”

You lower the cup from your lips, swallowing your mouthful, and you couldn't stop the rise of your brows once you turned to look at him. “Creamer, usually. I like a caramel flavoured one. But, since I’m not big on creamer in packets or from street vendors, this one just has sweeteners.”

“Cool.” He nodded, and your lips pressed together tightly to try and contain the smile you wanted to let free, silence forming between you both for a moment, a further gathering of steps as the two of you went on, your building coming into sight again. “Did you watch the news last night?”

“Is this small talk?”

“It’s an attempt at small talk.” He winced, and you chuckled, a small smile on his features as the fear of judgement or humiliation washed away, and he gave a sigh.

“Okay, let's try this.” Your mind spun, searching for a track of something to talk about, and a thought clicked into space. “If you could watch one genre of movies for the rest of your life, what would it be?”

“Comedy. Like, comedy-action. You know, ones like ‘Jumanji’ or something?” He was quick with it, certain about his answer, and you nodded.

“Yeah? That was quick. How come you’re so sure?”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged, one hand coming up to hold his bag strap, swinging it to the side to be able to get inside, and fish out the paper bag with a pretzel inside. “I guess I just think they’re good for you. Good for the soul. They have action and it keeps you a little on the edge of your seat, but it’s funny. It's easy-going, when you’ve got anxiety, or you’re having a bad day, or you just want background noise, they’re perfect.”

“Alright. Fair enough. Okay, tricky one.” his eyes narrowed a little, but an amused look passed over his features while he waited. “If you had to choose specifically between comedy and action, which is it?”

“It’s got to be action. Because comedy usually means Adam Sandler or Seth Rogen, and some of their comedies are good, but some are jus-” He paused, jaw dropping a little, and his hand came out, pausing in front of your to bring you to a halt too. A smile curled on your lips, and he looked shocked. “Holy shit, you’re good!”

“Ask a basic question that people are passionate about, it always leads to more options, and everyone always wants to talk about something fun.” His head shook slowly, as though he was in disbelief, and you took a dramatic bow, trying not to spill the coffees in your hands as you giggled. “Give it a go, I bet you can do it.”

The paper in his hands crinkled, your footsteps taking up again, and the two of you were making your way towards the building once again. Taking a bite from his pretzel, a piece torn away with his teeth, he thought it over. “Does your family have any secret or ‘famous’ recipes?”

“Oh, that’s a good one. Kudos to you, Noah.”

“Thank you. I thought about it for, like, eight whole seconds.” He grinned, the joke moving away from you both as you left it behind, and you thought about his question.

“Maybe it’s not my family recipe, just a personal one, but I’m great at making lasagne.” He scoffed, and you nudged him with your elbow. “I’m serious! I make a great lasagne!”

“You don’t seem like a cook to me, is all! You seem like the sort of person who’d manage to burn a pit of water.”

“You can’t burn water, an.. oh, I just got it. You jerk.” It was a joke, your nose screwing up as you stuck your tongue out at him, thanking him a second later as he held the door open for him. The bright lights of the outside changed to artificial lights in the halls, not as much coming through the windows as trees outside managed to cast shade into the building. “Well, I can cook. I love to cook, and I’m good at it. Especially lasagne. My family are generally the only ones who have ever had it, and thanks to that insult, you’ll never have it.”

“Oh, woah, no! You have to let me try it now. Prove me wrong, or I’ll be forced to believe you’re bluffing.”

“You’re sneaky.” You scoffed, students filling the hall and filtering in from different sides of the building, lectures in different halls all waiting to take place, and you stepped to the side of the corridor once your doorway was within reach. “If you’re lucky.”

“I’m betting on that.”

Glancing back, Stiles was already inside, as expected. Stiles Stilinski had never once been on time, he was either twenty minutes early or twenty minutes late, and since he’d spent the night with Derek, who was an early bird, you’d figured which one today would be. His head was slumped on his hm half-asleep and on the verge of drooling as he sat there, and you chuckled, turning to Noah. “Thanks for walking me. Also, thanks for small-talking with me.”

“Thanks for the advice on small talk.”

“I’m gonna’ head inside, but, I’ll see you later, okay?” He nodded, confirming the times with you, and lingering a moment longer. It was quiet, but not so tense, and he rolled on the balls of his fete, the half-eaten pretzel in his hands was seemingly abandoned as one hand tucked into his jeans pockets, the other hanging limply while holding the delicacy by his side.

“Thanks for sitting with me. This wasn’t so bad. It was almost fun.”

“You know, one day, you’re gonna’ tell me you had fun with me. I look forward to that day.” He smirked, your head tipping to the side at the expression.

“If you’re lucky.” He was repeating your own words back to you, and you beamed at the chance. Backing away from him slightly, you fixed him with the cheekiest glance you could as you walked through the doorway.

“I’m betting on it.”

You could hear his laugh once you were gone, into the classroom and beginning to take the steps up to a seat beside Stiles that he’d reserved for you, his bag sitting on it. He’d already gotten his equipment out, notepads and pencil laid out in a somewhat organised mess on top of the desk.

Placing the two coffees down, you moved Stiles bag to the floor, tucking it behind his chair and a soft snore made itself known from him, the boy not doing well with early mornings but he never had, not once in your years of knowing him had he handled it very well, so it was no surprise.

“Opening up your bag, you dropped your notebook down onto the surface with a loud ‘slapping’ sound, and he jerked upwards, flailing as he did, and almost knocking the coffees over. Blinking quickly and shaking sleep away, he looked around, eyes wide as he finally focused on you.

“Jesus Christ, don’t do that.” He chastised you, leaning back in his seat and holding a hand over his heart. “I was dreaming about high school, I thought you were my lacrosse Coach waking me up for falling asleep in class again.”

“Maybe I am.” You winked, slamming a hand down on the counter. “Drop and give me twenty, Stilinski! Right now!”

“Don’t do that, it’s eerily accurate.” He cringed, shuddering a little, before a wide smile replaced the horrified expression that had morphed, and you pushed a coffee over to him. “You brought me a coffee?”

“Yes, I did. It’s bribery.”

“Oh? What am I being bribed for?” He was curious, rooting through the bag of condiments for it and taking the plastic lid from the cup, steam curling out into the air. Taking an ungodly and certainly unhealthy amount of sweetener and sugar packets to load into his coffee.

“Your free time this afternoon. I’m thinking about getting some of my study done, I can get all the work for the next couple of sessions sorted now, but how do you feel about being asked some later?” He tipped them in, a drop of coffee flying up over the edge and landing on the desk as he stirred his drink with vigour, that same hyper excitement that he always had.

“Can’t I just fill them out now?”

“It’d be better if I could get your responses with Noah.” He sighed, rolling his eyes and making a scene of it, but there was a smile that told you he already agreed.

“You should have brought me two coffees, but fine.”

You let out a victorious ‘aha!’, and shook the little brown paper bag that was still sitting on your half of the desk at him. “I also brought you half of a muffin!”

“Only half of a muffin?”

“Well, it was none, but since I didn’t eat it yet and I’d feel bad eating it in front of you, I decided to share it.” You tore it in half, pushing half across the scratched and vandalised wooden surface to him. Crumbs were left along the surface, and Stiles pressed the pad of his finger along them to gather them all up.

“Oh, right. Well, in that case, what I meant was; wow, a full half of a muffin!” He cheered, much more enthusiasm, and you nodded.

“Much better.” At the front of the classroom, your tutor entered, door slamming behind him as he kicked the wedge out from underneath, and his case was placed down on the desk. The room began a hushed quiet, save for the loud slurping of Stiles with his coffee beside you.

“You know,” Your best friend didn’t understand the concept of a whisper, everything he did was more like a dramatic stage whisper on a Broadway show, and a few dirty looks were sent his way. The professor was used to this, a year of experience and advice from previous tutors guiding him to ignore Stiles’ fidgeting and chatter. “You’re going to have to convince Noah to do this.”

Slumping down in your seat a little more, you turned your head to him, nibbling on your half of the muffin. “I already did.”

“What?” This time he was hushed, the man standing at the front near his desk, trying his best to give extra advice to everyone and answer any common questions that he’d been emailed. You’d have to catch the after-class notes in your emails. “When d’you do that?”

“This morning before class. I saw him while getting coffee for you and we walked over.”

Stiles huffed, his brows being pulled together slightly. “Okay. Damn, he was my last free shot at getting the afternoon off.” You grinned, pinching at your friend’s cheek, and he smacked your hand away. “Quit it, I’ve told you not to do that before.”

“In case I pinch your moles off?”

“That's where my power is. My funny is in my moles.” He hissed, only making you laugh more, and you covered your mouth with your hand over his silly superstitions.

“Whatever, freak.”

“Hoe.” He snarked back, and you grinned, punching at his shoulder as best you could from this angle, and he reached up a hand to rub at it. “So, if we’re doing this, I at least want to do it at my place. I’m going out this evening, I gotta’ be ready. Derek’s sisters are coming up to visit.”

“It won’t take long, don’t worry.” He hummed, pulling out his phone and keeping it ducked from view. He was texting his brother, letting him know to be ready, and at what time your class would be ending, giving him a little time to prepare. Opening your book up and flicking to the page you had marked, it was a journal written about the study of the ways that twins raised in different households could grow up similarly, and you were hoping to adopt some of the content for your study.

“So, what’ve you got done so far?”

Stile sighed, flicking open his notebook, and you were shocked by the fact that he was already at the end of it. There were pieces of paper stuck in, a list of book references on one of the tabs down the side of a page, and only a few blank pages left at the back.

“Oh, wow, okay.” You stared at your notebook, barely reaching a quarter of the way through with the notes you’d been making, and it looked like Stiles was ready to start making progress towards a conclusion for his hypothesis. “So, you’ve got a whole lot done, then.”

“Yeah, well, I want to spend as little time in a prison as I possibly can.” He rubbed a hand over his forehead, the pages crammed full of information as he flicked through to find a blank one. “Plus, I didn’t want to go and interview inmates on my own, so I wait until Derek has free time to go with me, and I get as much done in those sessions as I can.”

“You’re gonna’ be done weeks before I am.” You pouted, your pen twirling at the top corner of a page, drawing a collation of pretty flowers to form a border, and he chuckled.

“I have easier test subjects than you do. They’re already guilty and behind bars, they’re more than happy to open up. You’ve gotta’ deal with Noah.”

“That’s true.” You grinned, thinking back on the conversation you’d had with the other twin that morning. When he was alone, it wasn’t so bad, he talked more and he wasn’t so worried about judgements, but as soon as there was someone else who might hear, he completely closed down.

“Hey, seriously, we have ages left. You’re gonna’ be just fine.”

“I’m just freaking out a little bit, because this is the last hurdle, y’know?” He nodded, and you could see whatever it was he was thinking practically swirling in his eyes, because Stiles’ emotions were open to read like a book.

“It’s terrifying. It’s, like, what the hell are we supposed to do when we finish?”

“I don’t know.” Your head dropped to your hands, fingers soothingly rubbing at your temples. A large hand landed on your back, rubbing in comforting circles. “What I do know, though, is that if I don’t get on with coming up with some more content, I’m never gonna’ finish this study in time.”

“Well, put your headphones on and come up with some questions.”

You did as told, plugging your earbuds in and choosing some classical music that would make it easier to concentrate. Opening one of your survey works back up to the page you’d left off at, your eyes began to flicker over the pages, picking out the useful information. Once you had a list built, you had a foundation to work from, questions to create and organise into groups, different sessions being able to come together.

Beside you, Stiles’ hand never seemed to stop rising, a constant dialogue with your tutor as he checked his work and ironed out any kinks in his study. He was also full of chatter and laughter, getting along with everyone around him and asking about their works, making you turn your music up several times just to be able to concentrate. But, by the end of the session, when Stiles was tugging your earbud out and telling you your class was over, you had a solid three pages worth of questions that had been split up into sessions, and ready to be worked through.

“Pack up and get ready to go. I have plans to get ready for.”

Stiles already had his bag in his arms, notebook tucked inside and pens and pencils put away, two empty coffee cups and a muffin wrapper sitting out, which he quickly gathered up, once his bag was on his shoulder. He was gone, walking past you and down to the waste bin at the front of the hall to dispose of them, his fingers tapping idly on his thigh once he was done.

You gathered your belongings, packing them away and curling the wire of your headphones back up neatly, making sure everything had its correct place in your bag, before following him down and out of the steps.

The halls were filled once again, the two of you navigating through crowds to the outside of the building, and you followed him in his diversion across the pathway, all the way to his car. Some students had already left, spaces beginning to empty out as a bottleneck effect took place at the only entrance and exit to this carpark.

“Where’s your car?” The dirty blue jeep was one of the only ones left in the parking lot, Stiles looking around for your vehicle, and you sighed.

“Don’t get me started on that hunk of junk.” You growled, stomping a foot on the floor as Stiles laughed. Opening the driver’s side door, he hopped up inside of it, legs dangling from the chair. “I’m trying not to use it as much. It splutters when it starts up and I have to try it a whole bunch of times, so the less I use it, the closer to graduation we can get before it eventually taps out.”

“You ever think about just getting it fixed?”

“Oh, big words from the man whose engine is held together with duct tape.” Your hand rubbed over the hood of the car, a slightly dusty layer that made you cringe, and you wiped your hand off on your jacket to stop it.

“Touché.” Stiles only smirked. “C’mon, I’ll give you a ride to my place. I’ll be waiting for hours if you walk.”

He slammed his car door once his legs were inside, leaning over the centre console to pop open the passenger side door as you rounded the car, and he was sparking up the car before you were even fully inside. Slamming it shut, he was reversing from his spot as you clipped in your safety belt, swinging his car around, and you gripped onto the edge of the door. “Easy there, fast and furious.”

“Oh, relax. Nobody is around.”

“Except for me, and I’d like to live until graduation.” His eyes rolled, hitting the brakes and flicking on the indicators as he was leaving the parking lot, moving out onto the main roads. There weren’t so many other cars, the mid-afternoon meaning the other students were mostly in class, in bed, or eating their lunch. College was a weird time, and while you’d loved it, you couldn't wait to regain some kind of normality. “Can we swing by my place? I need to swap out my books. I don’t want to carry all these around.”

“Okay, but be quick! I have to be ready by six and out the door by six-thirty. Derek will kill me if I’m late for this.” His fingers were tapping on the steering wheel as he changed direction to head to your place instead of his own. The space between you both was filled with the radio, the simple tunes of classic 70s anthems, the songs Stiles had grown up with, his dad’s favourite records and he played them constantly. He knew all the words, mouthing along and banging his head, pausing occasionally to check the mirrors and the roads between dancing in his seat.

Rolling the window down as he slowed in his approach to the building, afresh air swept into the carbon of the car, the slightly musty smell of the older car was something you’d miss when it was gone. The shade of the concrete cover overhead was chillier than the sunny roads, and he swung himself haphazardly into a parking space.

“I’ll turn the car around and wait here, cool?”

“I won’t take long, promise!” Hopping from the car and closing the door, you leant on the open door frame, and Stiles slouched in his seat, as he usually did. “Lydia and Ally should both be out, so there’s nobody for me to even talk to.”

“Good, because you’re chatty.” He teased, and you flipped him off, a quick walk as you headed away from him to the stairs. Once you were there, you were taking a quick jog up the sets of stairs, headed for your floor, and balancing your books in your arms carefully. Rooting through your bag to find your keys, they were at the bottom, jingling tantalisingly for you to find.

Leaving your books on the countertop of the kitchen, you shifted through them, taking the notebook you needed and leaving the rest, piling them back up and taking them to your bedroom Abandoned on the desk, you rushed to change, throwing on a bigger and warmer jumper to get through the rest of the day, phone in your pocket and a bag on your arm. Passing back through the kitchen, you were ready to grab the notebook and bag you’d left there, keys hanging in the back of the door, and you eyed the freezer.

You’d made a bet, a point to prove, and you were certain that buried somewhere deep in the bottom, you had a frozen lasagne from the last time you’d made it for Allison and Lydia. You had a few spare moments, and so you moved over to the freezer, opening the door and crouching to scan over all the shelves.

Running your fingers over frozen plastic, you searched for the right one. Tinfoil crinkling in the back, behind a bag of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a tray of alcoholic ice cubes, was a tray of lasagne. Pulling it out, the cold chilled your arm, even through the layers of your hoodie, and you used your foot to close the freezer while wrapping the tray in the nearest tea towel for an extra layer.

Placing your notebook over it and holding it in both arms for security, you clicked the latch onto the door, keys in your pocket and bag on your shoulder to let it swing closed behind you.

Stiles saw you coming, his head snapping over to the metal door between the stairwell and the parking lot when it fell open, backing through it and his brows raised. Opening up the passenger side door, he took the lasagne from you when you handed it over, climbing back into the vehicle.

“This is cold. What is it?”

“Lasagne.” You settled it onto your lap once your safety belt was on, folding the towel underneath to keep your lap from getting chilled and painful, and he nodded. The engine was still running, and taking off the brakes, he was pulling out of the space again.

“So, not that I don’t love a home-cooked meal, but I’m going out for dinner. Why the traybake?”

“I have a point to prove to Noah.” You were looking out of the window, but you could feel his gaze on you, making you a little uncomfortable, and you turned to face him. His eyes were flicking between you and the road, brows furrowed, a stare like he was trying to figure you out, before he let it go. “He told me I looked like I couldn't cook, and it’s a battle I’m going to win.”

“Well, alright then. Save me leftovers?”

“We’ll see.” You winked, and he grinned, eyes flicking to the tray in your lap, before back to the road.

It was only a short journey, the distance between your place and Stiles’ building was short for a walk and even shorter in a car, on the edges of campus and conveniently placed, and it had been one of the building blocks of your friendship with him An easily accessible study partner, somewhere to hang out with, someone to walk home with you after a night out, someone to share a cab with, or simply knowing there was a friend so close to you.

“It’s going to be weird not living around the corner from you in just a few months.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” He sighed, pulling into his one building sparking area and it didn’t have the luxury of being covered or underground, it was exposed each flat having allocated parking spaces, and Noah’s bike was parked underneath the shelter, you could see it from here, with a clamp around the wheel and covered from the impending and risky weather of the early months. “I have a feeling that you’ll end up living next door to me someday.”

“You do?”

He parked the car, arm behind your head as he reversed into it, ready to make a quick getaway on the next morning, or this evening, when he would invariably be late. In true Stiles Stilinski style. “Yeah. Especially after I rock whatever gown you want me to wear for being your maid of honour, someday.”

“Lydia is going to fight you for that role.”

“I will fistfight her for it.” He challenged, and you grinned, clambering down from the car as Stiles had parked a little too close to someone else on your side. With your bag on your shoulder and lasagne in one hand, you tried to squeeze around the door without scratching someone else’s paintwork.

Stiles’ arm was slung over your shoulder as you set off toward the building, the elevator being fully functional, and it was a refreshing change not need to take the stairs up to your place, or risk your life in a rickety elevator.

Throwing his keys down on the kitchen counter, they slid all the way across and to the other side, hitting the floor, and he grimaced when you turned to stare at him. “I’ll pick those up later.”

“Uh-huh.” The sounds of video games and music were coming from behind Noah’s door, though it wasn’t fully closed, only pushed halfway, and you hoped that was a sign that he was still in a good mood. Leaving your bag on the edge of the couch that was facing away from you, your hands rubbed together, glancing around at the environment you were still getting used to. “You should put this lasagne in now, so that it’s ready for after the study. Medium heat, leave the full-on tight.”

“Where are you going?”

“To say ‘hey’ to your brother.” Stiles’ face scrunched up, a mumble of ‘good luck’ as he picked up the tray, lifting it over his head to look in at it from underneath. Wandering toward the sounds coming from the hall, you knocked on the edge of the door, pushing it open a second later when you heard the game pause, and the music following it. Leaning on the doorframe, Noah turned to face you, brows raising slightly, and he shifted in his chair. “Hey.”

“Hi. It’s, uh, time for the study stuff, then?”

“Yeah. You okay?” He shrugged, turning back to his game and closing it off, leaning forwards from where he was sat on his bed enough to turn the console off.

“I didn’t realise we’d be doing it here. It feels more personal, somehow.” He had a large hoodie on, comfortable in his own clothes as he wore a baggy and warm outfit, the same way you often had when everything started to feel overwhelming.

“Well, this study is going to get pretty personal.”

“I know that. It’s just that right now, it feels a bit like I’m naked, y’know?” You chuckled, a momentary smile on his face flashing past, and you were glad to see it. “I just feel exposed.”

“This study is gonna’ do that, but I promise that I’ll try and make it as easy as I can. I’ll break it up, I’ll make it comfortable for you, and we’ll stop whenever you’re getting overwhelmed.”

“That’d be great, actually.” His hands rubbed together, sleeves hanging slightly down over his palms, and he looked a whole lot less terrifying right now than he did with the armour of a bike and a leather jacket. “Okay, I’m ready.”

“Good, because I need you in high spirits. I brought a lasagne and I have a point to prove.”

You backed out of the room as he advanced toward you, the door closing and leaving you both standing in the hall, and he smirked down at you a little, a disbelieving expression. “You really brought that?”

“You bet I did. It’ll be ready by the time we finish.”

“Then I guess we’d better get started, huh?” He hopped over the back of the couch, settling in beside his brother, who scowled at him as his drink spilt down his shirt from the impact. Taking a seat on the other side of them both, your legs folded underneath yourself in the armchair, finding a glass of water laid out for yourself on the table, courtesy of Stiles.

They looked so different and yet so similar in this moment. You could understand how people may have confused the two of them before their styles became so radically different. In the beginning, before Noah turned to leather and a sleeve tattoo, when they both wore hoodies and band tees and had clean pale skin. With the sleeve of tattoos covered, and the pair both wearing hoodies, one with an etching across the front and the other with a faded logo from being washed one too many times,

Laying out your books, it was more of a note you’d keep to yourself, and following from that was your recorder, coated in the front pocket of your bag so as not to get crushed. Switching it on at the side, the red light flashed on to green blinking once to let you know it was active. “Can you guys do your confirmations for me while I get set up?”

“Surely can.” Stiles sat forwards, leaning down a little with his forearms braced across his knees, as opposed to Noah, who slumped back into the cushion. “Stiles Stilinski, happy to be recorded.”

“Noah Stilinski, aware of being recorded.” Stiles rolled his eyes at his brother’s dead tone, clearly not having as much fun as Stiles was, but you didn’t blame him.

“Okay, so, why don’t you guys tell me what it’s like to live together at college.” There was a beat of silence, and then a set of matching laughs from both of them, the two starting at one another. There was a look between them, one you didn’t quite understand, and it seemed like some kind of twin-telepathy communication.

“It’s, like, exactly the same as when we were in high school.”

“Uh, what?” Stiles interjected, and Noah turned to look at him. “It’s nothing like high school!”

“Yes, it is!” Noah insisted, and you smirked, picking up your water and taking a sip as the two stared in shock at one another. “We lived together in high school, we played video games, I did all the cooking and you did all the cleaning while dad was at work. The only thing that is different is that we can’t cheat from one another’s homework anymore.”

“We don’t drive to school together anymore, we’re on opposite sides of campus!”

“That so doesn’t count.” Noah scoffed, and Stiles twisted on the couch, his hand gestures much more emphasised than that of his brother’s and you watched the debate go down. “You can’t name any more than that.”

“I take that as a challenge.” Stiles’ head rolled side to side. “Our schedules don’t match up anymore, and we haven’t had our usual movie nights in almost six months now. I can’t bring Derek over because your room is right across from mine-”

“My room was across the hall from you at home. You just didn’t date in high school or have anyone to bring home.”

“Low-blow. Unlike some people, I didn’t want to traumatise my brother in high school by bringing someone home, for that.” Stiles reached out mid-sentence, swatting at his brother’s shoulder, before continuing; “Uh, let's see. Oh! We don’t talk anymore, you didn’t ride your motorbike so much at home, you used to ride in the jeep with me. It’s like a totally different world now.”

“I didn’t know you felt like that.” There was a palpable kind of feeling in the air, something between them that was sizzling with electricity, before Stiles sighed.

“It’s no big deal. The difference is just that we’re both so busy now.”

“That was really good, actually. Thanks.” The two seemed to have forgotten you were there, both flinching and turning to face you again, matching sets of honey-coloured eyes in varying shades were fixing on you again. “Speaking of what you said, though, does it ever make it hard for you guys when your class times are so different?”

“Hard to do what?” Stiles squinted at you, face set in a frown that his twin normally wore.

“Hard to hang out, talk, have that whole brotherly bond going on.” Your clarification did little for Stiles, his brows still pulled tight and frown never moving, but Noah’s face smoothed out.

“Oh.. well, I g-”

“Totally.” Noah pressed, and once again, Stiles’ head whipped around to look at his brother. “Don’t look at me like that. You basically said it, anyway. We don’t talk so much anymore. We barely know each other. You don’t even tell me about your podcast, anymore.”

“You never listened!”

“You used to tell me your problems, not broadcast them to the world with jokes and humour! I missed two episodes, and you just stopped keeping me updated on it.” The moodier twin crossed his arms over his chest, and you swallowed thickly at the environment you had unwittingly created. “I don’t know. Just feels like we used to talk a lot more.”

They both went silent, and Noah shot you a pleading look, but there was something darker behind it. It almost felt venomous, angry or defensive, as though to say ‘I told you so’ about it being more personal now that they were home. Stiles was occupying himself with pulling a loose thread on their couch cushion out and making it that much worse, distracting himself from it all. “Well, how about something a little bit lighter. Just some questions about hobbies. Stiles, what inspired you to first start a podcast?”

“Well, as you know, I never stop talking.” He smirked, Noah laughing beside him, and just like that, the awkward air between them both was completely evaporated. “I had a lot to say, I had a lot to get off of my mind. At first, it was just to get my thoughts out there. It was kind of like a recorded journey for myself, and to share with my friends from back home. But, then other people started listening. I thought it was going to be the end of my college social life, a social life that I was developing for the first time ever, and they liked it. I was just talking into a mic and getting things off of my chest, making no sense while telling stories and bitching about my homework and suddenly I had friends. It got a whole lot of followers and I made new friends,”

He paused, offering you a wink for the comment, and you beamed.

“-and I was going to parties, I met my boyfriend at a pep rally, and everything just kinda.. blossomed. The more I got out of it, the more inspired I was to keep going. I ended up making multiple videos a week, all differently themed. Sometimes movie reviews, sometimes songs, sometimes just talking. That’s how ‘Mischief Mic’ was born.”

“Alright. That was awesome.” Stiles bowed as best he could from sitting on the couch, and reached over to take a sip of his drink. “Okay, Noah, have you got any hobbies that you didn’t have in high school that you found when you came to college.”

“Not really.”

“Not even one?” You pushed, and the arms folded over his chest tightened, his gaze going to the floor, socked toes pushing into the twist cable rug. He took his glass, swigging all of it, the water draining from the glass in nervousness, and you could hear the crickets inside your mind chirping to fill the silence that had formed.

“No. Not really. I’m going to get more water, feel free to continue.”

“Uh, okay.” You pressed your pen down into your paper, drawing a line through the question on your paper as you realised you’d have no answer to that question when you listened back on the tape at a later time. “Stiles, back to you, then.”

Your next question came, and went, and Stiles was more than happy to answer them. Occasionally, Noah would answer a question, you’d be able to pin him down long enough to get a straight answer out of him, but there seemed to always be something that he needed to mess with, or fix. Almost half of your questions for him had a line drawn through, and you would have to ask them another time, and get a whole extra session in without Stiles, dragging the study out.

It was going to take you twice as long to get through it all if every time you had to ask them separately, and had to spend your time trying to force him to sit and answer. You were missing half of the information that you needed to be able to compare to Stiles’ answers, you couldn’t answer without them.

The clock ticked by, leaving you with all of your questions for Stiles answered. On a blank page, while Noah had once again been tinkering with something in the kitchen, you’d rewritten up all over the crossed out questions that would still need answers. You had doodled on the corner again, waiting for him to come and sit back down, a collection of hearts and flowers, the occasional bee or ladybug, even a couple of misshaped stars, forming a banner across the top of the page.

When he finally came to sit back down, he huffed, eyes moving to the clock as though he was waiting for this to end just as much as Stiles was, and you gave up.

“Okay, how about we just finish this up?” You had reached the end of your tether, not even bothering with the rest of the questions that were written down for him. “We got almost two hours in, that’s perfect.”

Noah sighed, something like an apology in his look as your eyes met his and he shrugged lightly. Stiles only nodded, eyes flicking up to the clock on the wall, and he was grinning when he came back. Tearing a page out of your notebook for each of them, you passed it over, blank paper sitting before them, and you searched for a pen or pencil in the bottom of your bag for each of them. Placing your pen down before Stiles and a pencil in front of Noah, they both leaned forwards, picking them up. Switching off your recorder and packing it away, you were left with the two staring at you expectantly.

“Okay, Stiles, come fill yours out in the kitchen. You can’t discuss these ones.”

“Oh, some mystery. I like that.” He picked up his paper and pencil, heading over to the kitchen counter, folding the sheet in half as he did, and you nodded. Standing from your place behind the coffee table, your bag slumped a little more from where it had been propped against your leg.

“Okay, I want you both to try self-diagnosing yourself.” Stiles gasped, a little excitement lacing it, and his pencil was already moving over the paper. Noah, however, looked a little lost, looking to you for guidance. “Don’t worry, you don’t need to use professional terms, just, describe what you think, I’ll be able to figure it out, and if I can’t, I’ll ask you about it at some point.”

He nodded, pausing, not quite as eager to get into the activity as Stiles was, before the pencil finally met the paper, and the slow scratching of graphite over paper filled the silence.

Moving away to the kitchen, you searched for plates, and a dish, laying them out on the counter before moving to the oven. A wave of hot air into your face once you pulled the door open, and when it cleared, you search for the kitchen towel you’d brought with you. Wrapping it carefully around the edges of the tray inside, you pulled it out, resting it atop the oven and closing the door back up.

Flicking off the handles, the light inside went dead, and Stiles loomed up behind you. “Smells good!” He presented a piece of paper to you, your eyes flicking over what he’d written once you’d taken it from him, and everything that he’d written about himself seemed completely accurate. It wasn’t a surprising self-evaluation, Stiles had spent almost four years studying this, just like you had, and so it was bound to be accurate and professional. Even if his handwriting looked a little bit like chicken-scratch.

Noah was still working on his, and Stiles was picking at the edges of the tinfoil, trying not to touch the glass of the casserole dish and burn himself, and as soon as he had some foil pinched between his fingers, he was pulling it back. “Wait, Stiles, watch out for the-”

“Fucking steam! Oh, my God, that’s so fucking hot!”

His hand snapped back, half unpeeled as all the steam from inside clouded in the air, and his hand was clutched to his chest. He was glaring at the pot, before moving away and running his hands underneath the cold tap at the sink, his thumb rubbing over wet skin to soothe it.

A second later, Noah was appearing, placing his paper face down on top of Stiles, which now lay on the kitchen counter. “Well, now that I’ve been scalded by pasta, I’m going to go shower and get ready.”

“M’kay.” He backed away, and Noah leaned on the counter beside you.

“Looks good, but does it taste any good, is the question.” The twin you were left with was teasing you, your eyes finding him, and you raised a brow.

“Yeah, yeah. Just get me something to serve it up with, alright?”

He smirked, pulling open the drawer behind him and searching for a serving spoon. Slicing it into pieces, you dished it up for him, a large slab on a plate, still steaming with cheese that had only just stopped bubbling. He grabbed a fork, and one for you too, waiting patiently as you served yourself, and put whatever was left into a dish for Stiles, covering it back up and leaving it to cool.

“Okay, prepare for the best lasagne of your life.”

Picking up the papers and your plate, the two of you moved back to the couch, sitting opposite one another, and you waited with excitement. Taking a piece off of his plate with the edge of his fork, he raised it, blowing cold air over it for a few moments, before taking the bite. There was a tense few moments, while he chewed, face unreadable, before he was swallowing the mouthful.

“Well?”

You couldn’t take the anticipation any longer, a smile on his face at the desperation you showed for his answer, and he gave in. “Alright, alright. This may actually be the best lasagne I have ever had.”

“Yes!” Your hands went up in the air, cheering excitedly and he laughed at your reaction, holding his hand up when you forced him to, palms slamming together in a high-five. He was tucking in again, and you reached for your plate, excited for the meal you had made, Taking a large piece on the tip of your fork, you tucked in.

The sound of Stiles’ shower was running in the background, and he was singing loudly, a song that you were certain was a TV show intro but you’d never seen the show, and there was a chance it was something from Disney Channel. Picking up the pieces of paper again, you turned Noah’s around to face you.

You’d had an expectation, you knew what you thought he was going to write down, and yet you were somehow surprised and entirely not surprised at the same time. It was what you expected but with a twist. He had confidence in what he’d written about himself he was sure of it, and while there were definitely elements that you’d disagree with, there was a lot of truth to it, and you frowned, reading it again.

Noah was watching you do so, the scrape of forks over plates as the lull in chatter came back, and you place the two pieces of paper into the front of your notebook, making sure that it was all sealed tightly away. “Is it alright?”

“It’s just not what I expected from you. But, it’s perfect.”

“That feels like a backhanded compliment.” He smiled softly, but he looked nervous, and you shook your head.

“Not at all, it just means that you have a better grasp on this whole thing than I thought you did.” It was the truth, and while you didn’t want to reveal so much to him about it all without compromising your work, but it made sense. “It just feels like with the way today went, like you weren’t really so interested in it, so I didn’t expect such an accurate self-diagnosis from you.”

“I know, I’m sorry.” He sighed, pushing what was left of his food around the plate, and you copied him, appetite dwindling. “It’s just that when you’re here, in my apartment, and you’re asking questions about what changed and making me confront everything, it feels like real therapy. You said it was going to be casual, and this didn’t feel casual.”

“I get it. I really do, and it’s okay. I can just email you the questions you didn’t answer, and you can get around to them whenever you feel up to it, alright?” He nodded, shaking off the evening’s stress. He continued to eat, polishing off the meal that was laid out before him and settling his hands over his stomach once he was finished. There was a satisfied smile on his face, and your empty plate was soon stacking on top of his own. Leaning forwards a little, you caught Noah’s eye, and one of his brows arched up. “I can try to make it more informal, in the future.”

“That would be great, actually.”

You smiled, the consolidation made between the two of you, and your ears picked up on another sound. “Hold on, is Stiles blow-drying his hair?”

“Oh, yeah.” He laughed, head turning to the closed bathroom door where his brother resided. “He thinks it makes his hair fluffy.”

“He gels his hair, though! Why does it matter if it’s fluffy?”

“He’s insane. Don’t you know this, yet?” Noah scoffed, and your giggles carried you back into the rest of the chair as you settled back into it. The evening was still waiting to come in fully. Comfortable quiet fell between you both again, and Noah moved away to take the plates to the kitchen. He left them in the sink, water running to wash them up, before storing Stiles’ lasagne in the fridge.

The aforementioned boy moved from the bathroom to his bedroom, skidding on the floors a little and clutching the towel to his waist as he hurried, making himself late with the extra-long shower and the blowdrying of his hair. Noah was washing up the plates, leaving them to dry on the draining rack, and you took that as your cue. The night was over, that much was clear, and you’d be willing to bet that he was more than eager to get back to his alone time.

Taking your bag and double-checking that you had everything, you swung it up onto your shoulder, and made your way toward the door. Hearing the shuffling of your feet, Noah turned, drying his hands on the towel beside him. “Are you going?”

“Feels like I should. Stiles will be going soon, anyway. I’m sure you have things to do, too.”

“I don’t have anything to do, if I’m being honest.” He cringed at his own words, pulling down the rolled-up sleeves of his hoodie and making his way over to you. Undoing the catch on the door, he pulled it open, leaning against it and you linseed in the doorway.

“Since you’re not doing anything, do you wanna’ get a coffee with me?”

His eyes narrowed, just for a second, and his fingers tapped anxiously on the wood of the door. “As a study subject, or..?”

“As friends.” You confirmed, his lips a thin line for only a second, before pulling up at the sides in a smile.

“Then, yeah. I’d like that.” He looked down, sweatpants and mismatching socks on his lower half, and there was a tint on his cheeks when he looked up. “Just give me two seconds to go change, alright?”

He darted away before you had a chance to reply leaving you there with the words frozen in your throat. Stiles was clattering around behind his own door, and Noah’s door slammed shut, leaving you alone in the doorway. Your hands tapped against your thighs as you waited, bag swinging on your shoulder, and only a second later, one of the doors was opening.

To your surprise, it was Stiles, flapping the flannel on his body to shake out any creases, and he stood before you. Doing a little twirl from where he stood, he began to button it up down his front, looking somewhat smart. It was a nice black and white one, no rips or tears or stains like most of his other ones, and the black stood out prominently against the white, thick patterns with flecks of grey within it.

“How do I look, then?”

“You look great, Sti. I’ve never seen you wear anything so plain before. There’s no colour.”

“Yeah, well, this is a new flannel. It’s my best one, and the skinny jeans are Noah’s. All my skinny jeans are blue or red, it was this or khakis.” He was nervous, resisting the urge to mess with his freshly-styled hair. “The place we’re going to is kinda fancy, but I don’t feel fancy enough for it. I’m gonna’ do something stupid like drop my glass and smash it or make a joke about something dumb.”

“Haven’t you met his family before?” You teased, and he huffed, searching for his keys, and finding them under the counter where he’d never bothered to pick them up from.

“No, not really. I’ve met his mom because she comes to visit a lot, and of course, his little sister, because she’s a sophomore here. But, he has a lot of family. His extended family are coming to graduation, but this is his older sister and his dad, and his uncle, and I’ve never met them before.” His keys were tucked into his back pocket, and his phone followed, your gaze moving over him.

“You got a blazer, Stiles?”

“Uh, yeah. One that my dad made me promise to bring, I wore it to my senior prom.” He shrugged, hands smoothing over his front. “You think I should wear it?”

“Go get it, show me.” He nodded, moving back to his bedroom, and you were waiting for something with orange and blue stripes to come back out, which wouldn’t surprise you. In fact, you’d always imagined Stiles going to his senior prom in a Beetlejuice suit. Noah emerged from the other side of the hall, hangers scraping over their post in a wardrobe as Stiles searched for them. “Did Stiles go to prom in a Beetlejuice suit?”

Noah paused, rolling the edges of his hoodie up, charcoal grey skinny jeans that were only a  few shades lighter than the ones Stiles had stolen from him on his legs, and a pair of his usual scuffled boots. “What?”

He was laughing, loudly, shaking his head to hide his grin. “It’s a legitimate question! I have this mental image of it!”

“Unfortunately, he did not. My dad made us both go in three-piece formal suits. He saved up to have them custom made. Said that every man should have a smart suit.” He shrugged, crouching to start tying the laces on his shoes and Stiles reappeared. Over his shoulders was a dark black suit, crisp collar and pressed edges, and it was a beautiful piece of tailoring.

“You look good, Sti. Very smart, but casual. Like a polished version of your usual self.”

“Yeah? Good enough to meet Derek’s family?” His voice shook, and you wished you could ease him more.

“Totally. You look great.” He thanked you both, and Noah grabbed his wallet from the side, and his house keys, letting them both hang in the front pocket of an oversized hoodie.

“You ready to go?” He offered, hand on the top of the door, and Stiles’ head snapped up again from where he’d been checking his phone, presumably looking for texts from Derek.

“Where are you two going?”

“We’re getting coffee!” You beamed, and Noah nodded, stepping a little further out of the door with you.

“Oh, well, have fun. I’ll text you updates about how it goes. I might need bathroom-break pep-talk during the night.” You waved to him as you went, wishing him ‘good luck’, before the two of you were wandering down the halls. Thumbing the button for the elevator, the doors popped open, and you were stepping inside along with Noah.

“So, you wanna’ show off those new small talk skills to me, then?”

“Okay, okay. Let me think of something.” He hummed under his breath, glancing up to the top of the elevator and looking around at the posters on the walls for inspiration, and he seemed to find one. Turning his attention quickly back to you, you prepared for what he’d found. “Have you listened to any of the student bands? There’s been a lot of them growing, lately.”

“I’ve noticed that, actually.” There were several posters up around the inside of the elevator, different coloured flyers, some on shiny paper and some on smooth matte, varying fonts and designs, it was dizzying. “I haven’t, I’ve never been to see a student band. I should do that before I graduate, though. Have you?”

“I’ve been to a couple.” The door clicked open, the two of you stepping through it. Out into the setting chill of the evening that was threatening to break its way in. He chose the direction you’d be going in, heading toward the coffee shop on the side of campus that had been the first the two of you had met at when beginning the study. “Some of them are good, some of them are kinda’ average. They usually play at the bars on the edges of campus or in the places in the city, the less well-known, kinda’ alternative places. They can be fun.”

“You going out optionally to a night on the town? I’m shocked.”

“Uh, no!” He protested, grinning at you. “I’ve never been for a ‘night on the town’, and I never will. However, going to one of the few small bars around here that aren’t practically a nightclub, to listen to covers of good songs and get a pint without worrying about anyone bothering me or mistaking me for my brother, that’s nice.”

“Okay, well, maybe I’ll go to one sometime.”

“You should, I think you’d have fun.” The two of you weaved between other students, the small talk keeping up between you both as he did his best, and while it was sometimes a little stuttered and stalled, it wasn’t nearly as bad as you had expected. It wasn’t until the two of you had entered the coffee shop that he fell into tight silence again. The crowds, the rush of chatter from other groups gathered around the tables, and the friendly greetings of baristas whose chit-chat diverted to him due to his allegiance with you.

“What are you drinking? My treat.”

“Uh, just a black coffee.” He choked out, eyes flicking over all the boards, so many options up there, and you chuckled.

“Really, just a black coffee?”

“I’ve never really experimented. I just ordered whatever was the quickest and the easiest.” He confessed, already glancing back over his shoulder at the queue that was forming behind you both. “What would you recommend?”

“Hm, well, do you have a sweet tooth?” He only nodded, scratching around his cuticles on one hand and staring down at the flesh growing red, and you took his hand. Lowering it back down to his side, the hand formed a fist, flexed nervously, and you let it go, squeezing comfortingly first. Turning to the barista, she was still waiting patiently, and your eyes moved over the boards overhead. “Two mint and dark chocolate hot cocoas.”

“That sounds really good, actually.” He leaned down, mumbling the words into your ear to make sure you heard the quiet tone over the talk in the small coffee house.

“And, two croissants, too.” She rang it up on the machine, and you leaned in a little closer to her. “Do you have any of the warm and fresh ones straight from the oven?”

“We made a fresh batch about twenty minutes ago, they’re cooling. I’ll get them from the back for you.” She finished it with a wink, passing the card machine over to you once you’d produced your card from your wallet. Swiping it across the reader, you moved to the end of the line, and she moved away to begin preparing your order as someone else took over at the counter.

She was working, creating two beautifully constructed hot chocolates for you both. Placing them down on the counter before you, once they were garnished with chocolate sauce and whipped cream, she disappeared into the back room. Taking one of the ceramic plates with her, you were happy to see her bypass the glass cabinet with the older ones in, and only a moment later, she was coming back. Two fresh croissants on a plate, still warm and soft to the touch, and she handed those over as well.

Noah had been scouting for a place to sit, choosing which was the best one, and he carried both of the drinks while you carried the pastries, guiding you to the seat he’d chosen. It was tucked away in the back, a small loveseat sofa with a low sitting coffee table in front of it, and as soon as the paper cups were down on the surface of the table, he was dropping down into the seat.

“It feels like rush hour on the highway, but with coffee.” He mumbled, and you settled onto the couch beside him passing him his drink over, and he stared at it curiously. “What about the whipped cream. Do I eat that first? Scrape it off? Mix it in?”

“Any of the above.” You grinned, taking a wooden stirrer from the condiments tray in the middle and beginning to stir the cream into your hot chocolate. He placed it down, copying your actions, stirring slowly and trying not to spill any over the edges, but it was an impossible feat to achieve. Sticky droplets left over the edges of your cups and his, creating rings on the table that you had to mop up with tissues. “Okay, try it. This is one of my favourite orders here. It’s bitter because of the dark chocolate, but also sweet. Reminds me of you.”

“Now, that one is a backhanded compliment.” He muttered, taking a sip of the drink, and your lips rubbed together.

“Not everything is a backhanded statement, you know. I didn’t intend for it to be mean, it’s just the truth. You’re all dark and moody, but I can already tell you’re sweet on the inside.” You sipped your drink to finish your statement, and he filled the time where he didn’t know what else to say by pulling a chunk off of his croissant. Chewing on it idly, he settled back into the cushions, and you lifted your legs up to fold underneath yourself as you turned to face him. “Can I ask you a question?”

“You’ve already asked me a lot of questions today.”

“You didn’t answer many, though. You kinda’ have to give me this one.” He scowled falsely, but nodded, licking a flake of pastry from his lower lip. “Not that I think you need it, because personally, I think you’re just fine, but why are you so scared about therapy? The idea of it, anything to do with it, it makes you so closed off. Even more than usual.”

His eyes moved over the room, nervously, before scanning both you and the table, and you put your drink down, holding open palms up to him.

“No recorder, no study. I’m just curious.”

“Okay.” He sighed shakily, and slumped back. “Well, after my mom died, my dad made me and Stiles have therapy when we started acting out. We had a therapist who came to the house, and she was great, don’t get me wrong, but I hated it. I didn’t want her to tell me how to grieve or mourn, and I didn’t want her to tell me how to move on. Stiles needed all the advice he could get, but I didn’t want it. I wanted to do it my own way. Now, the idea of therapy, brings back all those feelings of sadness and pressure and stress.”

“I’m sorry, Noah.” You reached out, rubbing a hand over his shoulder, and his gaze fell to the contact. “Genuine sympathy and sorrow, not just that thing girls do that you hate.”

“Stop hanging things I’ve said over me, I don’t remember half of them. I blackout in social situations.” He grinned, moving past the moment, and you withdrew your touch.

“You know, if it makes you feel any better, I understand the nervousness of being in a study.”

“Yeah?” He picked up the rest of his croissant, a large chunk of it being eaten, as he waited for you.

“Yeah. When I moved here, I was so nervous. I was beginning to take my course and I didn’t really have any friends, and there was a senior who needed freshmen for her study.” Noah grinned, settling in for the story and sipping his drink. “She was doing a study about the difference between kids who travelled far from home for college alone as opposed to those who were still close to home, and whether it impacted social clubs, grades, all that. To be fair, it was an awesome study.”

“It sounds like it.”

You smiled, swirling the cup in your hands to gather any loose powder that may have begun to separate and gather at the bottom. “Well, I got drawn into it. She was a senior, and she was nice. I had no friends yet, I was in a flat-share with Allison and Lydia and three other girls who were all too busy getting adjusted to college themselves. So, this senior, she invited me to a party, and then another one, and suddenly people started wanting to be my friend because I was the freshman who hung out with seniors. I figured it would all drop away when her study ended and she didn’t need me anymore, but by then the whole social hierarchy had done its thing, and there I was.”

You shrugged, and Noah was hiding a shit-eating grin behind his mug. “So, you were just a little freshman lab rat, then?”

You scoffed, your laughter mixing with his, and the two of you were left in subtle amusement. His laughter was cut short, though, brought a rapid halt when a set of legs bumped against your table on the other side, followed by two more behind them.

“Hey, girl!” One of the girls on the cheer team, a lacrosse player behind her and a girl who you recognised from your psychology class texting on her phone. “Saw you over here, wanted to know what your plans for the evening were. We’re going to do some karaoke and get some food, you wanna’ come?”

Your eyes moved to Noah, whose attention was fixed on the floor again, as though the splintering wood was of utmost interest. “Maybe another time. I think we’re good here for now.”

“Oh, you sure? I think it could be super fun, you should both come.” The invitation was now extended to you both, and you shook your head at her despite it.

“Seriously, you should go, if you want to,” Noah whispered, and when you turned back to him now, he’d dared to look up, chewing on a lower lip that would go raw, but he met your gaze.

“No, I’m sure. I’m having fun here.” You held his gaze for a second longer, before turning to her, and confirming your denial, and she smiled, promising to make plans with you soon, before she was walking away. Noah was fidgeting beside you, shuffling in his seat, and you could practically feel the nerves rolling off of him in waves. “I’m serious, Noah. I’m having fun, and I’m perfectly happy here with you, right now.”

He was trying not to grin, a smile that was being bitten back on the inside of his cheek. “Well, for the record, I’m having fun too.”

“What was that?” You cupped your ear, challenging him to repeat it, even though you had heard it perfectly, and by the look on his face, he knew the game you were playing.

“I said I’m having fun. I won’t deny it.”

“Two victories in one day, for this gal. I’m breaking down all your walls, Noah Stilinski.” You poked at his cheek, and he swatted your hand away, taking a bite from your croissant as punishment, and you tried to snatch it back from him.

“Two victories, one loss. You’re not getting this croissant back, now.”

[prettywordsyouleft]

To Be Continued - Part 2

Summary: As an author, you had created Brian Kang for your current trilogy series to represent the ultimate man that everyone would love, along with Charli Evers - your female protagonist. What you hadn’t expected was for him to find a way out of the story and begin shaping up your world instead

Pairing: Brian Kang x female writer (ft. Park Sungjin)

Genre: writer au / romance / fantasy

Warnings: fictional characters coming to life / a bit of angst here and there / Sungjin as a cop (or does that only affect me?) >_>

Word count: 2205

Preview | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | Epilogue 

Once you stopped laughing with your panic, you did what any other logically thinking person would do and rang the police. And you waited at your front door, not touching anything within your home in case you tampered the evidence further. You were already scolding yourself for eating the food prepared for you. What if it had been poisoned? You thankfully didn’t feel any worse off with your cold, if anything, you felt loads better.

Still, the anxiety ran high within you until the two officers finished checking everything over.

“It looks like the person who did this knows you intimately,” Constable Park said with a brief frown. “We’ll run the fingerprints we’ve managed to find through our system to see if they’re in it but I’m not sure what more help we can give you, Miss L/N.”

“Thank you, Constable, I appreciate your efforts all the same.”

“You said you’re a famous author, right?”

You grimaced. “I wouldn’t say famous.”

“I’ve heard of your name before,” Officer Yoon mentioned with a sheepish grin when you glanced at him in surprise. He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck. “My girlfriend reads your stories.”

“Ah. Please tell her I said thanks.”

“Could I actually get your autograph to give to her? I’d be in her best books for-”

“Dowoon!” Constable Park cut in sternly, causing the taller man to shrink back.

“I don’t mind,” you offered and headed back to your office for a pen and paper. You stopped when you noticed your favourite pen was missing. Surmising it had been moved during the police search; you reached for another pen and then wrote down a quick message for the young officer’s girlfriend before signing it.

You stopped again, staring at the message still displayed on your screen.

Your biggest fan.

Constable Park was back at your side again and you glanced up at him. “You mentioned just now about me being known and the message here…”

“Just make sure you keep the doors locked and maybe invite someone around to stay with you for the time being. As harmless as it’s all been, we do have more than one fingerprint detected today. Since you live alone and haven’t had anyone over in some time, we can confirm there was a second person in here last night. I know it’s easy to spend time being grateful to your avid followers but be careful with who you share your personal information with.”

A chill shuddered its way down your spine and you nodded hastily, taking the card the man held out. He smiled comfortingly. “If you have any other problems, Miss L/N, this is my direct line. Contact me right away, okay?”

“Thank you, Constable Park,” you replied weakly, reading the card and finding that his first name was Sungjin. You smiled when you looked back up at him. “I appreciate it.”

“Alright Dowoon, let’s head out and I’ll be in contact when we’ve checked the database,” Sungjin – Constable Park – stated and you nodded once more as you handed the autograph to his colleague. Dowoon grinned bashfully and thanked you all the way back to your front door, where you fare-welled the pair.

And promptly locked and latched the front door.

You had lived alone since your early twenties, too independent to work well with roommates. Whilst you had started out in a small, frigid apartment, you had cherished the space alone to create your fantasies into novels. You had only moved to your modest villa within the last year and adopted Binks, the only company you needed on a daily basis outside of your characters.

You weren’t recluse by any means, you just preferred your own company. Socialising was exhausting for your introverted ways, and even though you wanted to play it safe, you slumped down on the couch after the police left and groaned at how exhausting today had been so far.

“I’m sick, that’s adding to it,” you said out loud, and then caught yourself doing so, snapping back upright in your position. “I talk out loud to myself a lot, don’t I?”

Of course, your belongings didn’t reply. And Binks had gone into hiding when Sungjin and Dowoon were here, being afraid of men entirely.

Thinking over the care the stranger had given to even your cat, you decided they had to be female. It didn’t ease your mind any assigning a gender to this person. But it did help you feel as if you were getting somewhere with the mystery behind it.

“And once the police run all the necessary checks, hopefully, I’ll have more answers,” you announced, groaning when you had realised you spoke out loud again. “Oh, whatever! I don’t have to keep my thoughts locked up inside my head or spoken through my fingertips into a word document either! My house, my life!”

And with that, you got up and went back to your desk where you tried to seek out some normalcy for the rest of your day.

You checked emails before conversing with Lily who was animatedly retelling you of her reactions to the final part of the manuscript you sent her. You mentioned to her about what happened too. Lily, however, seemed to be more concerned about something you had written, after exclaiming over your safety. You watched the video screen where your editor, and probably the person who knew you the most aside from your mother, struggled with something.

You frowned. “What is it?”

“You didn’t put your usual The End at the final part for me.”

“Yes I did,” you corrected, leaning back in your chair. “You know me. I always put it at the end of every manuscript so you can’t nag me for more words. The End means I’m not adding to this story anymore!”

“You didn’t put it, Y/N,” she repeated, glancing up at you curiously through her laptop’s camera. “You put something else.”

“Look, I’ll prove it to you,” you announced with pure conviction, clicking on the word document icon on the taskbar and then stopped momentarily when you finally noticed that the story was still open. “That’s strange. I know I closed out of it last night.”

“Out of what?” she asked as you clicked on the tab and watched the document appear on the screen.

You immediately gasped. There, after the final scene of Charli and Brian, was no longer The End as Lily had announced. Instead, the words, To Be Continued had been placed there.

“I didn’t put that there,” you whispered and Lily laughed, unconvinced.

“Don’t be so dramatic, Y/N! Who else would have?”

“I sent it to you right after I finished and I swear I had The End written there.”

“Maybe your writing muse changed it on you,” she teased but you didn’t join her in the amusement. She sensed your shock and blinked a couple of times before focusing back on you. “You really didn’t do it?”

“What if they changed the whole story?!” you shrieked as you jumped to the worst conclusion, scrolling up until you found the line that Brian had spoken to Charli about waiting for an eternity for her. You relaxed a little when everything appeared to be in order. “Maybe I’ll name the third book in this series, Eternity.”

“Wow, just like that, you calmed down,” Lily observed and then nodded. “I like that.”

“I don’t know. I’m just a little sensitive.”

“You were taking medicine last night for the cold, right?” You nodded at Lily’s question and the woman smiled knowingly. “Maybe you took too much at once and hallucinated a little. Or blacked out and can’t remember much.”

“I’m changing it back to The End,” you told her, typing it as you did so. Closing the document, you smiled brightly at the video call. “I’m not adding any further words to Captivated, you hear me? You work your editing magic and I’ll catch up with you later.”

“Yes, Boss!” she cheered, waving to end the call and you powered off your laptop then, making sure to shut the lid down as well.

After finding Binks, you scooped him up in your arms, checked all the doors a final time before heading off to bed for much-needed rest.

You were still a little sick, after all.

You awoke to the sound of your phone ringing the following morning and blearily reached out to silence it. “Hello?”

“Miss L/N?” a deep voice asked and you sat up a little, blinking away your sleep. “This is Constable Park. We met yesterday regarding your intrusion issue?”

“Sungjin,” you immediately said and then gripped at your blankets at your first name slip-up. Clearly, you were still grappling with becoming alert enough for proper etiquette.

He chuckled lightly. “Yes, shall I call you Y/N?”

“If it makes the situation still work well, be my guest.”

“Well, I’m not sure how happy you’ll be to have me calling you by your name, Y/N, in a moment.”

“No?”

“The results are in and there’s no fingerprint matching that in our database. Whilst that’s bad news for us to immediately act upon it, it doesn’t diminish the fact that someone had been there either.”

Despite being under your blankets, you ran cold, wrapping your spare arm around you to try and warm yourself back up. “I see. Does this mean you can’t do anything?”

“I’m afraid so. If you find anyone suspicious in your house or lurking around the outside, don’t hesitate to call me, okay?”

“Of course, thank you, Sungjin.”

“You’re the first person I’ve been called out to that’s called me by my first name, you know.”

“Do you find me rude for doing so?”

“It’s refreshing,” he admitted and you couldn’t help but smile at the thought of being something different for the man. You then bit at your lip, realising you were overreacting all because a man in uniform had stepped into your home.

Okay, so Sungjin was really handsome. And you were deprived of seeing such handsome outside of your stories. Whilst he was no Brian Kang, he would definitely make for a great love story counterpart in a new world. Perhaps he helped the main protagonist and became her protector. Or maybe –

“Y/N?” Sungjin said and you blinked rapidly out of your racing thoughts, coughing a little to cover your embarrassment. “You okay?”

“Sorry, I’m still recovering from this fever,” you admitted, fanning at your face for effect. “Did you say anything else?”

“Yeah, I just told you to keep safe, okay? I don’t need to be worrying about you needlessly, right?”

Oh, you were so going to get up right after this phone call and start typing out these ideas flashing through your mind. However, you gave a moment more to the police officer and confirmed you would call him at the first sign of trouble before ending the call.

Springing up from your bedding, you dashed into your office and perched on the edge of your chair as you opened your laptop and turned it on. You were relieved to find everything in your office in the right place as you opened a new word document and tapped furiously on your keyboard to get down all your ideas for your new police officer au story.

And when you were finally done, you leaned back in your chair and giggled. You weren’t always inspired by people who stepped into your world, but this was solid content you couldn’t ignore.

“Perhaps it’ll help me live out my Sungjin desires too,” you admitted sheepishly before glancing at your pen stand. You remembered about the missing pen and searched on top of your desk and then scooted your chair back to look on the floor. “Where did you go, favourite pen?”

Not finding it anywhere, you pouted right as your stomach grumbled. “Ah,” you said weakly, clutching your stomach in your hand. “I best feed myself and Binks. Hopefully, that pen will turn back up.”

Once you had eaten and quietened Binks’ demands for his morning affection, you got dressed and readied yourself for a trip out to the grocery store. Next, you had to write out a list of what you needed and went back into your office, sitting down at your desk and reaching for some paper.

Your attention turned to your laptop, where you found your favourite pen sitting upon it. “What the…”

And looking up at the screen, another message awaited you.

 Sorry, I didn’t realise I had taken it with me after writing you the notes.

 Glancing around yourself, you froze with the fear that rose within. You hadn’t heard anyone inside the house during this time. Yet, there was proof someone had come in again. You looked to the window, it was firmly shut. There was no way anyone could have gotten inside the house without walking passed you first.

You then started to shake.

Had they been in here all night long again?

Just as you went to get up and fetch your phone to ring Sungjin back, you noticed a second tab open on the document screen.

It was Captivated. And once again, the last words read, To Be Continued.

_________________

Part 3

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[captainschmoe]

I Will Survive [Beta] - Chapter 5: Flash of Fire

[A/N: It’s going to get violent. I mean, it’s an Anti fic. Of course it’s gonna get violent at some point. The Nice Guy GlovesTM are off. Also, I’m going to give myself extra time for the next chapter. I need to both write it and also figure out some background/spoiler things. :D]

[Summary: In which somehow Bio Inc. gets uploaded anyway. Neurological violence ensues.]

[Previous - Next]

Beepbeepbeepbeep!

“Gah.” Sean floppily rolled over and gave his alarm clock a good whack. He lay with his arm dangling over the edge of the bed. Ugh. He did not want to be awake right now. He had to be, of course. Always shit to do. A good cup of the ol’ dirty bean water should help refresh him. As it always does. As should some breakfast. He was starving, hunger shakiness and all. Well, of course he was fucking starving, he never got to digest that sandwich.

Hopefully he could digest the eggs he could smell from the kitchen. So hungry. So caffeine-deprived. His feet automatically carried him there, where he found Signe, already dressed to take on the day, doing exactly what his nose predicted she was doing. Ooh, were those sweet potatoes getting put into the other pan? Yeeesss.

“You want some?”

“Yes, please.” Sean groggily started up the coffee pot. He leaned against the counter, hands at his sides gripping the edge. His eyes drifted shut. Mmm. Such good smells all around him. And sounds - the whirring of the coffee pot, and the sizzling of breakfast in the pans. It helped his eyes flutter back open for a moment.

“You feeling okay?”

“Yeah, just super hungry. Puking didn’t help.” The coffee started flowing into the pot with its signature satisfying babbling.

“I’m sure this’ll help wake you up, too.” She transferred half the contents of each pan onto each of the two plates she’d set out on the counter. Sean wasted no time grabbing a fork and scarfing down half of his serving right then and there, to Signe’s shock and amusement. “Oh my God. Don’t choke.”

“I wasn’t kidding,” he said with a little bit still in his mouth. Wow, he felt better already. Maybe he could slow down now. He swallowed what he had. “Plus eggs get cold fast.”

Signe started on her portion, too. Probably figured might as well, as long as Sean was eating here. She shook her head and laughed. “Not that fast.”

Sean took the initiative to grab mugs as the coffee pot finished filling. “Want some?”

“Sure. Just a little.”

Sean could feel the steam kissing his face as he poured her cup. Way too hot to drink right away. Signe agreed, blowing tiny waves into her drink, and flinching away when her efforts proved fruitless. She set it aside for now - as did Sean - picking up her plate and finishing her food. She leaned back against the counter, casually engaging in conversation.

“I think I’m going to go out today. It might help clear my head.”

He nodded, polishing off his last bite and setting his plate in the sink. “I think that’d be good for you. Where were you thinking?”

“I don’t know. Probably nowhere specific.” Signe finished her food and set her plate down on top of Sean’s. “I’ll know where I want to go when I see it.” She picked up the coffee mug again, blowing on it again and taking a tentative sip, and drinking more now that she was able to. Sean tested the temperature of his with the tip of his finger, not wanting to burn his lips or tongue. Still a tad hot. Would take a while longer since there was more in his mug.

“Even better. Just wandering around the city. It’s nice.” Sean took a test sip in the pause. Still pretty hot, but tolerable. “You heading out right now?”

“Yeah. I’ll be a couple hours, probably.”

“Well, you know where you’ll find me. Screaming my fucking head off.” He leaned down for a goodbye kiss. “See you later, babe.”

“Bye. Love you!” She set off with one of her classic cute waves that never failed to bring a smile to Sean’s face.

“Love you, too.”

Once alone again, Sean’s gaze drifted out the window, which he opened to let the breeze in. Nice and warm, but not too hot. Not bright or sunny, but that was okay. That was normal. He drank up his coffee, taking a bigger mouthful now that it cooled off enough for him to not scorch himself. The familiar comfort of the bitterness on his tongue and the heat expanding in his belly helped wake up and raise his spirits. Maybe he could make today a good day despite Anti’s fuckery.

...

What if it was all just a big prank?

If Anti followed the rules of Sean’s characterization of him - which may not be the case, he was willing to accept - then the possibility that he was merely out to fuck with everyone rather than actually harm them was a possibility that existed. What if he was getting worked up over nothing? What if they just warned dozens of people, who had little to nothing to do with any of this, of worse things to come that was actually coming? Felix and Marzia, at least, seemed to take it pretty seriously. Not the Felix would ever admit it, but Sean could hear the slightest twinge of fear in his voice as they talked. Normally he’d poke fun at him for it. This wasn’t a normal time.

It was weird, as scary as the whole thing was, no one had actually gotten hurt. Yet. As far as he knew. There was still that doubt with Mark, gnawing at the back of his mind, to consider.

He suddenly remembered that odd... dream? From last night, that conversation with that voice. Who were they? Anti? No, they didn’t seem malicious. He couldn’t remember all of what they talked about, but he did know that it was pleasant and calming. Nothing at all like Anti. Sean tried his best to remember what the voice sounded like - if it was identifiable to one he knew in real life. He didn’t remember it sounding like Anti’s, either. But he didn’t remember it sounding like anyone’s he knew. Maybe his memory was just bad. Didn’t they say they’d see him again soon? Maybe they’d show up again tonight?

Sigh... There was nothing he could do about any of this. Nothing beyond taking it one step at a time. One day at a time.

One recording at a time.

It’s time to start the day.

Whoa, look at this! Whoa, look at that!

That was pretty much all this recording session was going to be. God damn, this community made so much good shit. Look at all this art of him, of him and the Whoosh, of him and his friends, of all the egos...

“Aw, we should make a video game with them all, with all the characters.” That would be amazing. Especially an RPG, seeing how the community fleshed out and developed and interpreted the characters.

Who was this guy on the far right-hand side?

Jack the Magnificent, huh? He never gave the magician guy a name, did he? It felt a little weird, though, having three characters with “Jack” in their names. Jackieboy Man he could leave alone, since that was already a name he’d officially given him. Well, back in the video he showed up in, the name “Marvin” was the name that was given, right?

“That’s his name! That’s what we’re gonna call him from now on: Marvin the Magnificent! You all helped, ‘cause we did Marvin’s Magic.”

This was fun, making more characters! The community was gonna love this, having a new little baby to call their own. So was Sean!

Sean gradually sidled up next to Signe on the sofa. Bit by bit. Inch by inch. Until he was practically merged with her. While she let the game she was playing keep running - she could afford to, it was the middle of a Pokemon battle - the visible pause in her hand movement served as her acknowledgement of his playful pestering. She slowly turned her head towards him. Sean gave a wave, a smile, and a “Hi.”

“Do you mind?”

“Nope.” He peered over her shoulder. “Did you catch ‘em all yet?”

“Getting there.”

“What do you mean, ‘getting there?’“ He leaned back out of her personal zone, opening up Twitter on his phone. “You should’ve finished that a long time ago. You’ve been playing nonstop for, like, a month.”

“Have not.”

“You put in, like, three hours an hour.”

Signe flung her arm towards the window. “I went outside earlier! You saw!”

Sean shook his head and started scrolling through Twitter. “Probably out trying to find Rowlets on a power line.”

...Wait, what?

“You can’t get Rowlet in Pokemon Go.”

Hang on.

“I’m happy with my little Cyndaquil, though.”

This conversation was going to have to be dropped. Something was horribly wrong. These tweets...

Towards the end of the new Bio Inc I was getting migraine headaches. lol what if Anti’s real?

> same here??????

> Thirded. Like really bad too. And double vision.

“What the fuck?”

“Sean?”

“God,” he muttered under his breath, “the ride just doesn’t fucking end.”

Signe shut her 3DS and leaned over his shoulder.

“I never fucking finished it,” Sean said, largely to himself.

“What’s going on?”

“They’re all talking about Bio Inc. And they’re all getting, like, headaches and shit from it, apparently.”

> My sister had a literal seizure after watching it!!! No family history of epilepsy or nothing, shes never had a seizure before!!

> headaches with aura and nausea. the fuck is happening Jack!?!?!

> wow everyone’s feeling like that? holy shit im scared D:

Sean opened Youtube in a new tab. There’s no fucking way. There couldn’t be. He was more willing to believe that Anti was making shit up on Twitter than actually uploading an entire nonexistent video to Youtube and giving millions of people migraines and seizures from it.

And yet, there it was. The newest upload. Not Suicide Guy as was intended, but rather:

KILL JA̠͎̭̕CKSEPTICEYE | Bio IN҉̱c. RedempT̡͟I͘on #5.

Then again, he had to admit, Anti uploading a video wouldn’t be the craziest thing to have happened thus far.

“Wa-pssh! Top o’ the mornin’ to ya, laddies! My name is Jacksepticeye, and welcome back to Bio Inc. Redemption!”

So at least it started off normally. Jack quickly became nauseated, desperately trying to hold back vomit, and ran off camera, with Dr. Schneeplestein appearing in his place. All as Sean originally wanted. It looked as though it was genuinely edited from what he did manage to successfully record. Even the mini bloopers with his face mask. But Sean knew better. Something had to be different.

Something such as the Anti moments that rapidly filtered in. Sean had planned for them, he did. But of course... it wasn’t finished. He didn’t record the little blips yet. Robin didn’t edit the Anti moments yet. There’s no way they should have been there. Yet they were. Sean’s head and vision pulsed with every blip.

Or another something such as Schneeplestein taking off his hat at the end, and Anti’s evil laugh filtering in. As if taking over the doctor’s body. Sean didn’t plan for that.

“I need your help!” Schneeplestein cried. “Save him! Save Jackse-”

“Anti.”

“I’m feeling dizzy,” Signe said. Sean wrapped his arm behind her, stabilizing both of them. Her breathing turned quick and shallow.

Schneeplestein suddenly tried to strangle himself with the headphone cable, correcting himself with a “What am I doing?” For a moment, Sean swore he could feel his own throat closing on itself.

His heart raced.

As Jack’s condition worsened, the screen decolorized. It was growing more and more obvious that Schneeplestein was operating under Anti’s control, with Anti breaking through as his name was inadvertently mentioned within “antidepressant” and “anticoagulant.”

Jack ultimately died - as planned, Sean wished he could say. And in his place...

“Ẃell, ͜lo͢o͘ḱ ͏who'͞s͡ ba͟çk!”

Sharp ringing pierced Sean’s ears and black splotches formed and disintegrated in his field of vision. Signe flinched as well. Jesus Christ. The community weren’t fucking kidding.

“I’m tired of playing pr̸̨ȩt̀en͠d́! Sick of it!” Anti’s hair started flickering between green and red - giving Sean a bit of a headache - gradually remaining red for longer blips of time as his demonic speech carried on. “And y̴ou th̶òug͝h̵t ͏you h͠ad ͡h̛i̕m ͝b҉ac̡k͜...” It reverted back to green.

“What the fuck is this?” Signe cried. She doubled over, hands clamped over her ears, breathing quickening even more to the point of hyperventilating. She ripped herself from Sean’s grip and took off before saying anything more, and before Sean could stop her and ask if she was okay.

“ I've k̴e͢p̶t͏ c̛ontr̀ol all this time.” Anti ran his fingers along the edge of the blade. Almost... seductively. Sean felt like he was suffocating. “N̨͝o̡̡͜͟t̵h̛́͟i͡҉͠n̷̷̢g̸̷͞ gets rid of me!” A shock blasted up his spine, throwing his head backwards against the back of the sofa and sending the phone flying out of his grasp. He may not have smacked against a wall, but it still hurt like a bitch. From the other room, he heard a thud and Signe yelping in pain at the same time as his head smash. Please be okay... Vertigo kept him trapped in place, and his vision turned dark again.

Anti’s voice continued, now seeming to come from within Sean’s own head as much as from the distance. “Mo̡c͞k̶i̛n͜g̢ ̢m̸e with your ‘glitch bitch’...” One of his evil laughs followed, and shocks ran through Sean’s body again, this time pinning his limbs down. His jaw, too, locked shut. Was this what having a seizure was like?

“P̨̛ò͘w͟͜e̷̷͘r͜le̕s̸s̴̸̷!̸͢͢”

“Sean!”

Signe’s shriek made his blood run cold. He desperately wanted to respond. He couldn’t.

“Wh̵o͝ do̡ you̡ ͏th̴i̕nk ͢y̷o͘u̧'̵v̴e ҉be͜e͠n҉ ̶w̸a͝tch͜in͢g all̸ t͞h͟is͡ tim̷e? My p̴̨u҉͟p̷͜͝p̛è͘t̷s̢.”

Fuckfuckfuck... Let me up! Signe, no...

“I̧f͏ ́y҉ou ̕wan̶t͡ h͠i͠m̕ b́a͝c͟k̀ so badly, then why don’t you ̶sav̸e ̵hi̵m̛?”

“Sean, hel-” She was silenced mid-sentence.

Signe! He tried with all his might to break out of his locked joints. To no avail. No!

“There are no̢ s̛tr̛i҉ng̸s͞ on me.”

His brain was screaming. Ringing. Pulsating.

...

And then all was silent.

“And for you! This isn’t over.”

Sean couldn’t get up. His joints felt released. Relaxed. His breathing and heartbeat slowed to a crawl. Too relaxed.

“I wonder what will happen to your favorite boy next time.”

Why did Sean feel so calm?

“See you soon.”

...

God damn, Anti was pissed this time around. All of the fun of his last two appearances was gone. Despite being a fictional character, Alyssa felt a significant quiver of fear in her chest after watching Bio Inc. Or maybe it was the drugs the doctors ordered for her. Who knows. It wasn’t pleasant to watch either way. Not that it was bad. The video was phenomenal, as always. A ray of sunshine on her fourth gloomy day in the hospital. It was so obvious that Jack and Robin had a blast creating this character, and the fun really rubbed off on Alyssa.

One, two, Anti’s coming for you~

It was Anti’s voice, unmistakable. But it sounded like it came from within her own head? Her eyes flicked around the room, scanning every corner; her ears opened in a vain attempt to catch another sound from him. Was she just going crazy? Was it just a side effect of whatever drugs they gave her?

Suddenly her nose and throat were forcefully blocked by a searing mass of thick fluid. Black mist flecked with green spanned across her field of vision. Something grabbed and squeezed her whole body like a giant’s hand, even holding her a few inches off the bed. Shocks shot through her spine and head. She needed to scream, but couldn’t. The fluid was real. Her arm was pinned to her side, unable to reach the call button that was otherwise right there...

It felt like the fluid in her lungs burst out and ripped down through the rest of her insides. Like her body had been hollowed out and filled with magma. Her spine bent backwards farther than she’d ever thought possible. The pain was mind-shattering. So much that she couldn’t even think about her imminent demise.

The first nurse on the scene about fainted at the sight. Staff crowded around, speechless. Alyssa’s father waited just outside the door, receiving no words of comfort about his baby girl.

This was no mere code. There was no resuscitating this one.

The next thing Alyssa knew, she was somehow alive, but alone, greeted by a gray, twilit sky and the hospital’s equally-monochrome edifice.

[thehumanbuilder]

This is my W H Y 👇🏼✨🧠

When this began I didn’t know what an “influencer” was. The meanings of “follow,” “like,” and “hashtag,” weren’t part of my vernacular and 2 p.m. was an empty space between personal training clients. When this began I also lived in fear of dementors dominating my daily life.

Simultaneously the #fitspo was swallowing the fitness industry whole, like a hot pink horse pill peddled by said “influencers,” in hopes of getting a hit of the highly-addictive instant-gratification of our newly founded “insta-world.” While in Largo, Florida, I was up and in the gym with clients — everyday — at 6 a.m. with a cup of coffee, and a hug ready to go.

My mission was — is— to build humans from the inside out. The human body is the most complex piece of machinery ever crafted. A luxury vehicle, deserving to be handled with respect, love, and dedication. It’s been my mission to understand it and all its complexity.

Understanding its evolution is never ending — and therefore should be treated as such. Every moving part serves a greater purpose for the whole. Nothing is a mistake, and every piece has a place. The human body is magic realized — and it’s so much more than the the aesthetics we’ve come to obsess over, as a thanks to more than public progress photos.

Running a full-time personal training business as a full time student was more than enough to test my passion, and patience. I was wrapping up a B.A. in Digital and Mass Media Communications. A degree nearly six years in the making — for what I thought would be nothing but an ill-fitting robe and an initialed piece of paper. A degree that ripped me from everything, to show me exactly what I had:

A knack for the click clack of a keyboard, a love for transformation, and an uncanny talent I had honed that transforms traumas into tests, tests into lessons, lessons into stories, and stories into human connections. My degree showed me that every human has stories, truths, loves, and traumas, that deserve to be heard.

When practiced with love, objectivity, and empathy, communication transforms from a task, to a tool. It evolves into authentic human connection. It’s by these connections that we form relationships, families and social circles. Communication is the concrete foundation for a healthy, and well functioning society. It’s the one thing that seems to be missing from our world. The willingness, and the want, to connect, share and be human, with — albeit — other humans.

Every class was a mirror to — in my eyes — blatant errors in the media. We all want to be followed, liked, and shared. We all want to feel like we matter. So how is it that we have come across the most anthropologically advanced piece of technology —our species has yet to discover until recent history — and use exclusively to get an extra hit of the hottest drug on the market.

Social media has the power to serve one of the most primal human needs — aside from the obvious of sustenance, shelter and security — is human connection. Without it, we wilt and wither away like that of an unloved houseplant sentenced to a life of solitude, without a lick of sunshine.

We have all — to one degree or another — “been there.” We’ve been the houseplant in the corner. Bruising our leaves in an effort to soak up just a few little rays of light. Wondering what the purpose is anyway, to have something so beautiful left at the hands of darkness.

My personal battle with dementors isn’t locked away in a Chamber of Secrets. It’s online. I went from proclaiming my distaste for humans — as has become so common as a thanks to internet — to sharing every bit of my journey with a digital world.

Knowing that there were human beings behind those usernames. Human beings in search of something they were missing in “real life.”

There was a moment in one of my classes — Media Ethics (yeah… I know… the irony)— where something just clicked. After 5+ years of questioning what the fck I was going to do with a degree, it made sense.

“Journalism is the business of humanity,” I said to my professor. “It’s our job to share the stories, and connect with other human beings.” To remind them that there are stories to be told, and no one is a wasted chapter.

I took to social media that day and began sharing my own story. Knowing that if I wanted others to open up to me, I would have to take the first step. It wasn’t about how many people read, or even liked it. It was about starting a conversation that needed to be had.

With every onion layer of my personal journey that was posted, came an influx of messages from other humans thanking me for “being vulnerable.” They thanked me for being “brave,” and it left me baffled.

I can’t be the only one.

The posts got more real, and the message got clearer. Everyday, between ‘flients’, I would write, connect and share with humans. Yes. Real life people. The humans all too comfortable suffering in silence on the outskirts. Who “get it,” and just “don’t wanna sound crazy,” when they need someone to — lovingly — start the conversation.

We scroll our way through the day, double tapping things we like, and swiping left on those we don’t. Refreshing screens for red tabbed notifications that arbitrarily validate the lives we lead.

What if, we stopped scrolling, and started connecting? What if we took time to say “how are you really,” and prompt the larger questions of life.

What if we use social media to start a conversation on the importance of mental health, being love, while promoting impactful psychological and sociological change?

This tool we’ve uncovered, that has been bruised and beaten by the barbaric notions of society, deserves a facelift. It’s time to take social media back from the bots, booties, and breast implants.

Let’s make socials a place to be social. A place of ever-expanding evolutions, mutual growth, and positivity. A place for stories to be shared, respected and heard.

It’s more than the quantifiable values we have become fixated on. It’s about humans finally receiving what they have needed for far too long. A pseudo-watering hole that connects human beings around the world based on mutual interests.

It is time to evolve our interests from viral videos to a #real virus. According to the AFSP , in 2017 there were nearly 1.3 million suicide attempts in the United States, and suicide stands as the 10th leading cause of death.

Headlines read ages as young as 9 years old, ending their lives. Regardless of what the individual trigger was, the route cause is always the same. What’s the point if the darkness is going to be that loud and present / no one understands / or there is no one to talk to judgement free.

We can talk about “awareness” until we are blue in the face, in my heart it’s time for more than that. It is time to put this earth shattering mechanism to the test and use it to take action. It’s time to remind the people behind the usernames of what connects all of us down to the fibers of our being.

The need to love, and be loved. Every human deserves to know they’re worth the human-right to evolution, change, and growth. The only reason your dementors are here, is to show you just how magical you are.

Like a sorcerer’s stone, it’s been buried, and likely in the wrong hands, for way too long. It’s up to you to blow of the dust, and take back what’s always been yours. To know that you have it in you to conquer every hurdle, and execute your reps — in and out of the gym — with dedication, focus, and optimism.

This is my WHY. It’s everything to me. If I could give back even half of what this experience has given me thus far, it would be too little. Every single human that comes across @bemacfit will be reminded of their worth. They will know — even for a moment — that they aren’t crazy, and there is at least one more human out there who really does “get it.”

It is my WHY To be the person I wish I had when things were at their worst, to authentically connect with, and educate, humans around the world, and create a program that provides actionable steps to defeat dementors in/out of the gym, with the intention of helping prevent suicide from going — any more — viral.

[semperdiscens]

Should I leave social media?

A brain dump on my thoughts on social media. I may as well write for a newspaper considering how much I got out on this one topic with minimal research. Imagine what I could write with research!

Facebook’s attempt at creating a cute, inviting and wholesome log-in screen (February 2019) despite its multiple privacy scandals that has affected literal millions of people.

I love learning about different topics, researching, and contemplating them. My most recent topic is that of the effects of social media on people’s lives. Suddenly, you look around and social media is a part of everyone’s lives—from children to older adults. In 2010, I created my Facebook account (after peer pressure set in from my friends). During that year and the years that followed, adults were like, “Oh, you kids and your Facebook.” But suddenly it’s 2019 and everyone can spend hours scrolling through Instagram, Facebook, and Twitter and swiping through Snapchat without questioning it; it’s just what people do now. It’s not just a young people thing anymore; now it’s just a people thing.

I’d like to say that I’ve never been extremely attached to social media, but I don’t think that would be true. I remember when Instagram didn’t have its noisy “Explore” tab and people wouldn’t get sucked into watching random videos and looking at random pictures they would have otherwise not been exposed to if that content weren’t conveniently located under the search bar/tab. The few times I was curious and found myself scrolling through it I had to tell myself, “Why am I even looking at this stuff? I know this is actually just a waste of time” in order to move on with my day. When I used to post much more often on Facebook, I always found myself uncomfortably waiting for those notifications, just waiting to see people’s reaction to my posts. The same can be said of Instagram and the few times I used Twitter. When I used to post stories to my Snapchat, I would just wait to see how many people saw it or responded to it, checking it until the full 24 hours had gone by. This includes all the “Instagrammable” moments of my life and how I spent so many of them thinking, “This would be good to share” instead of simply allowing myself to fully enjoy the moment.

Even though my personal experience with social media has not been as extreme as that of others, I nevertheless wonder how I could ever let my own life be dominated by the anxiety of waiting for people’s reactions when I could have simply...not done that. My teenage years were highly influenced by social media and it’s hard to ignore it when you’re 16 and everyone around you is using it and “Why don’t you have ________? You should make an account” and “Don’t tag me in that picture, please delete it!” and it just becomes a central part of your life because it’s what’s new and interesting, just like having the glossy, new iPhone 4 when it came out in 2011 (this iPhone was, BTW, the first iPhone with a front-facing camera). It was all about attention and all teenagers want attention.

Fast-forward to late 2018. I’ve graduated college and I have spent the past ~9 developmental years of my life, high school and college, fully immersed in a world that is fully immersed in normalizing an increasing amount of time spent on and thinking about social media. We have to keep in mind that the hours that people spend on social media may be trackable, but I believe we also need to consider the time we spend thinking about our posts, other people’s opinions about our posts, etc. I think that probably adds up to A LOT of time. Social media has successfully integrated itself into our lives the same way microplastics have entered the food chain (“We Know Plastic Is Harming Marine Life. What About Us?” by Elizabeth Royte). 

The catalyst that caused me to draw away from social media was how I felt that Snapchat was becoming increasingly tacky with its tabloid-like stories on the easily accessible “Discover” tab. I was simply not interested in this information at all and it seemed as though I had no choice but to see it every time I happened to use the app. But that was just the thing. I did have a choice; there was nothing stopping me from not using the app. There was nothing stopping me from deleting the app. There was nothing stopping me from deleting my account! “But what about my friends?” I thought. “How will I keep in touch with them?” The thing is, social media is just various outlets that allows for one thing: communication. An email, a text, a phone call, an in-person meeting can all achieve this. We just have to choose it. “But what about communicating with long-distance friends/lovers?” A relationship that falls apart from a lack of social media is not a stable relationship in the first place. If you have access to social media, you have access to the Internet; if you have access to the Internet, you have access to email and other forms of communication; you do not NEED social media. You do NOT NEED social media.

I began with deleting my Snapchat account and then moved to delete my mostly unused Twitter account. I then disabled my Instagram account and have been considering deleting my Facebook account as well. Since late December 2018, it has been refreshing to not be checking these accounts and not having their apps taking up space on my phone. 

“Why are you still on Tumblr, then?”

Much like life, this is an ongoing process; I’m testing the waters outside of living with certain forms of social media. Obviously, I’m still using Tumblr. I may decide to leave it completely; I may decide it’s best taken in small, controlled amounts. I’m learning! I’m sharing this unironically via social media because I’m interested in extending this message to anyone else who may be feeling overwhelmed by social media or who may be questioning the actual benefits of using it like I am.

If you have read this far, I just want you to know that:

You do not have to let social media swallow all of your precious time. Read: All of your time is precious. And social media is just making money off of YOUR time, off of YOUR LIFE.

You are an autonomous being and social media for personal use is YOUR choice.

You do NOT NEED social media.

You are not “weird” for not having an account with every major social media outlet out there. What’s “weird” is that it has become so normal to give so much of our time to social media. THAT’s weird, unhealthy, and yet the new “normal”.

If you are interested in viewing this information in video form, I’m considering creating a YouTube channel (unironically) as a way to express and document what I believe to be highly relevant information. I think this message needs to get out there and it needs to be discussed. We have to take control of our own future! And that may potentially be giving social media a taste of its own medicine.

[nic-and-annie-in-france]

How I plan a trip

We have begun my two-week break from school for Christmas. We are going to four different European countries. It has been a lot of work to get everything planned, but between this trip and the weekend trips we’ve taken within France, I’ve gotten pretty efficient at trip planning, thanks to some of my favorite websites and tools. Here’s my process.

After I’ve picked a place and time, I check Airbnb and Hostelworld for a place to stay. When I find something affordable with decent reviews and decent proximity to downtown, I book it.

Next, I go to TripAdvisor. I scroll through the list of tourist attractions and open tabs for the ones that appeal to me so that I can read more about them and look at pictures. I tend to pick out outdoor public places, like parks or historic districts, cathedrals, and museums of all kinds. I also list all the potential places to go on a word document.

I also scan TripAdvisor’s travel guide section. These are lists of attractions and/or restaurants curated by people, rather than an algorithm, and they are usually made with a specific kind of trip in mind. I go for the “[city] on a budget” guides, and guides that match the amount of time we’ll be spending in the place (like “3 days in Marseille”).

Once I have a hefty list of things to do, I use My Maps on Google to get a sense of where things are in relation to one another. This program allows me to use a Google Maps map as a canvas and add my own color-coded points of interest to it. I also plot the location of our housing and the train station or airport that we are using. I can then delete places that are too far out of the way to be worth the trouble, and begin to think about sequencing together activities that are close in proximity to each other. 

I return to my list in my word document, and begin looking up and jotting down opening hours and cost for everything on the list. I had to pay extra careful attention to this step for our Christmas trip, since lots of places have different hours on Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, New Years Eve, and New Years Day. This step also helps me eliminate things that are too expensive to justify, and helps me start assigning certain activities to certain days of the week.

If I know that I’ve got too many things on the list given the amount of time we’re spending in the city, I color code all the locations on My Maps given the type of place it is. In the example below, restaurant options are purple, museums are red, other places are blue, and the train station we arrive/depart from is green. This helps me know if I’ve planned too many of the same type of activity, and can prioritize the best of each category and eliminate the rest. If we’ve got 5 art museums and only one park, for example, I can narrow down to only the most appealing one or two art museums. Or, in the case below, I can narrow down the restaurant options by only considering the ones that are within walking distance of other attractions.

The hardest part is comparing the map with the list and finally deciding what things I want to do when. I constantly have to prioritize and re-prioritize around opening hours and physical proximity to other things on the schedule. For the Christmas trip, I planned the holidays first, since things like stores, museums, and restaurants are least likely to be open on those days. Anything that was open on the holiday, I went ahead and scheduled, giving me more flexibility in our schedule on the normal days.

If there are some really excellent-yet-affordable restaurants in the area, they will be a priority for the trip. Often, though, I pick restaurants for our meals that are cheap and nearby the places we’re going before and after eating. I take note of the type of cuisine of each restaurant, its reviews by previous customers, and its price range, so that we know what to expect. Sometimes, I end up listing 2-3 restaurants for one meal, so that we can make a decision on the spot based on what we are hungry for.

Then all that’s left is to go to the city and enjoy! I look at the itinerary I made at the end of each day so I can refresh myself on what is going on the day after. I don’t have a strict timetable for each day, but I keep track of when things open and close, and when we’ll have meals, so that we can pace ourselves throughout the day. 

To navigate in France, I use Apple Maps, and sometimes download the city’s public transit app to help us get around on buses and trains. In other countries, I use the Google Maps app to download the  map for the city we’re in, and then navigate and search locations on it even without wifi. I only just learned about this feature recently, and I’m crazy about it because it keeps us from spending our time hunting for wifi before we can navigate to the next destination.

[recentanimenews]

Peter's Winter 2018 Premiere Recommendations

We’ve survived another batch of premieres, so now comes the part of the season where we start deciding which series to keep up with, which to drop, and which to give the benefit of a 3-episode test. With a ton of awesome carryover anime from the fall season like The Ancient Magus’ Bride, March comes in like a lion, and Garo -Vanishing Line-, competition for our time is fierce, so here is a list of my top 5 winter 2018 anime from their premieres (and maybe a bit extra)!

Cardcaptor Sakura: Clear Card

This anime is absolutely unbelievable. I knew that Madhouse had assembled a production of most of the major creators and cast of the original anime going in but nothing can really prepare you the raw quality of this anime. Rather than losing their rhythm, they’ve all come back refreshed and with new ideas and you can be sure Madhouse is pulling out all the stops to make the production a success. What you’ve seen in previews is what you get, with the first two episodes throwing some truly mind-blowing visuals at your eyeballs.

I’m typically hot or cold on magical girl anime, tending toward more contained, niche series with a narrative focus, but having tried out some of the original in anticipation of Clear Card’s release, it's so easy to fall right into this anime’s rhythm. The characters are charming, the comedic timing is perfect, the voice actors are wonderful, and the art and designs are second to none. Even if you didn’t watch the first run of Cardcaptor Sakura, even if you’re not typically a fan of magical girl anime, even if you’re not typically a fan of shojo, please try out Clear Card.

DARLING in the FRANXX

It’s hard not to anticipate a TRIGGER anime about mecha, especially when they’re collaborating (an area where they have a great track record) with a studio like A-1 Pictures. It’s also been a while since Imaishi has unleashed his unmistakable style on an action sequence, with his last real display perhaps being the Sucy’s dream episode of Little Witch Academia. Basically, no reason not to be excited about this anime.

Although it’s experienced a later premiere, with only the first episode available so far, we’ve already seen some awesome character animation and a fight sequence by Imaishi showing off many of his signature moves. Featuring child pilots and alien monsters in a scenario half Diebuster and half Pacific Rim, the set-up had a few conspiratorial elements that promise dramatic revelations further down the line. Although it has many TRIGGER trappings, FRANXX doesn’t have their usual feel, so I’m really curious where this story could potentially lead.

A Place Further Than The Universe

I was already attracted to this anime from the outset simply by its premise; a bunch of girls getting together to travel on an expedition to Antarctica. Nothing could really prepare me for the execution. Previews showed off a sort of cinematic style which has absolutely made its way into the show, displaying a great deal of consideration for dramatic shots in what has turned out to be a tremendously well-written character narrative.

This show has turned out to be my favorite sort of coming-of-age story, focusing on Mari’s desire to simply make the most of her youth while she can and overcome her fears. Each new addition to the team has brought their own reason to go (or not to go) on the same journey as they support each other a mess up quite a bit along the way. Prepare your tissues and maybe a mouth guard because they’re putting on some heavy gloves for some of the emotional punches. One particular scene had perhaps one of the most emotionally devastating moments coming from a simple text message I’ve ever seen.

Record of Grancrest War

Speak Ryo Mizuno’s name and I’m there. One of my first anime ever as a kid was Record of Lodoss War and I still keep a tab open on my browser at all times with Kiseki no Umi ready to play. If you’re a fan of tabletop gaming it’s impossible to ignore the series charms despite its avoidance of references or gaming-related jokes that might detract from the story. It was a narrative-first fantasy series with roots in tabletop and I don’t really need to argue for that premise after its resounding success.

That brings us to Grancrest. Mizuno is back nearing 30 years since he first published Lodoss and A-1 Pictures brought in the director of Rakugo Shinju of all series to direct. The first two episodes definitely have the same Lodoss feel despite the new setting, although with the heroine Siluca taking the reins in a hilarious way that leaves our errant knight Theo fighting for screen time while she uses him to push her political machinations. Keeping at this pace, along with more nicely animated fight scene featuring Aishiela and Irvin, I’m with this anime for however long the ride lasts.

Basilisk: The Ouka Ninja Scrolls

If you haven’t watched the original Basilisk then I highly recommend putting aside an entire day to work through the excellent 24-episode series. It’s bloody, it’s brutal, and it’s wonderfully tragic. Inspired by a 1950s work, it has the sort of classical literary Japanese romantic that isn’t too commonly seen these days, with star-crossed lovers ultimately unable to be together due to the tragedy of station and circumstance. Except this is to the tune of rival ninja clans trying to wipe out each other 10 greatest warriors.

This new iteration seems intent on continuing that tradition, already speaking of a curse between the Kouga and Iga clans that may mean the descendants of Gennosuke and Oboro are destined to live out the same tragic fate. New political machinations seem to indicated that the rivalry for Ieyasu’s seat as the shogun were not resolved with the bloodshed now ten years past. Basically, it’s got a ton of good stuff and even more weird-as-hell ninja techniques ready for us.

Not too many surprises for the very top of the list as each of these come in as a much-anticipated title that has so far delivered on its hype. We’re definitely spoiled this season with even more great anime on offer that deserve at least an honorable mention such as the spooky Junji Ito Collection, the mysterious Hakata Tonkotsu Ramens, the surprisingly charming Laid-Back Camp, and, uh, whatever Pop Team Epic is.

I hope these titles land you a new anime that you can enjoy for the next 12 weeks. If you have a top recommendation that didn’t make the list then give it some love in the comments!

---

Peter Fobian is Features and Reviews Editor for Crunchyroll, author of Monthly Mangaka Spotlight, writer for Anime Academy, and contributor at Anime Feminist. You can follow him on Twitter @PeterFobian.

By: news+feed@crunchyroll.com

[dividedwerisetogetherwefall]

Chapter 4: Drink to Forget

As usual, The Jolly Dungeon was packed with people. To Thae’s dismay, a sizable line had formed, and he stood at the tail end of it. He could hear all the laughter and conversation, and he could smell all the wonderful food being cooked inside. It was a really medieval atmosphere, and it reminded him a lot of a tabletop game he enjoyed playing during his youth called Leviathans and Labyrinths. It was one of the few buildings in the city that wasn’t a towering skyscraper. Instead it was a simple cottage, with brick roof tiles, beautiful stained glass windows, and birch wood walls. The wonderful smells tortured Thae as he waited eagerly to get seated. He tried to distract himself so his hunger didn’t bother him as much, but alas to no avail. After what seemed like hours of waiting, Thae finally reached the front of the line and approached the waiter at the reception desk.

He said, “Hello! Welcome to The Jolly Dungeon. Unfortunately we do not have enough space in here to seat you all by yourself at your own table. You wouldn’t mind sitting next to strangers, right?” Thae quickly replied, “Yea, I don’t mind.” The waiter smiled nervously and said, “Alright, if you say so.” He began to lead Thae through the pub, weaving through small aisles in between the circular wooden tables and bar stools, which occupied the majority of the space in the tavern. The floorboards creak under their feet as they reach a small table in the corner, occupied only by a strange octopus creature with long hair. Her mouth was surrounded by frothy beer, and she drooled as she slept on the table strewn with empty beer mugs. Thae sat down, carefully pushed the empty beer mugs aside, and began to analyze the menu. He studied it closely, as if it were a holy scripture given to him by the gods. After many minutes of decision making, he finally thought to himself, “I think I’ll just get The Severed Poultry and a glass of Ruff Beer.” Thae looked up from his menu and raised his hand to call the waiter over. He swiftly traversed through the tavern and reached Thae’s table. He pulled out his notepad and pen and asked, “So, could I start you off with any drinks?” Thae replied, “Sure! I’ll get a glass of your-” “I’ll get 20 refills!” The octopus screamed as she awoke from her slumber. “Put it on my tab Justin!” She instantly fell back asleep. Justin quickly scribbled down some notes on his notepad. He was an interesting man. He had frizzy hair and he wore thickly-rimmed glasses. He turned back to Thae, “Sorry about that, please continue your order.” “I’ll get a glass of Ruff Beer please.” “Alright, got it. Now what would you like for you entree?” “I’ll get The Severed Poultry please.” “Alright got it. Your order will come out shortly.” “Okay.” Thae said as he sat in his bar stool, looking around the tavern. It was quite a beauty. Dark oak wood planks fit together perfectly to make a beautiful floor, mahogany support beams which seemed to placed perfectly, the rustic lanterns which illuminated warmly, and the beautiful oak wood tables and stools. It was a feast for the eyes. “Isn’t he wonderful?” the octopus said dreamily. Thae turned to face her. She wiped the beer froth off her face and continued with a drunken slur in her speech, “I just want him to hug me until I die from his strong arms crushing my ribs causing my heart to be punctured by his love. He’s so dreamy…” The octopus smiled and stared into space before laying her head against the table, yawning, and falling asleep once more. Thae sat waiting for his food, glancing at the drunken octopus who sat in front of him every once in awhile. He rubbed his head with his hooves, yawned and said, “Boy am I tired.” He would’ve fell asleep if Justin hadn’t come around. “Alright so I got the Duff Beer for you sir, and I got five refills of Yed Beer, I’ll be right back with more. Shortly after the beer was served, the octopus awoke from her slumber and reached for one of the mugs and began to chug its wonderful contents. Thae watched as the octopus downed the alcohol as if it were nothing. He himself took a small sip from his glass, and wiped the froth that surrounded his mouth. He asked the octopus, “So, what’s your name?” “Peppyk… Just call me Pep.” Thae reached out to shake hands and said, “Hi, nice to meet you, I’m Thaecrasis.” They shook hands. “So, what do you do for a living?” “I draw, and I also write my own songs. Would you like to see my work?” “Sure.” Pep whipped out her phone and began to scroll through her images. She smiled dopily and chuckled lightly. “This one’s a good one.” Thae stared at the screen and saw a drawing of a spiky haired mouse spray painted blue. Thae laughed nervously, “Wow! That’s um… Really cool!” He returned to his beer, but took a much larger swig this time. He whispered to himself, “It’ll be okay Thae, drink to forget. Drink to forget.” “You wanna see more?” “Um… sure!” “Okay this is one of my favorites, it's called Midsummer Night’s Vore. It has some of the original characters that I made, and it really shows the emotions feel when you get vored by your sugar daddy on a warm summer ni-” Justin walked towards their table with half a chicken, stuffed with mashed potatoes and topped with fresh vegetables. “Alright, one Severed Poultry for you sir.” Thae replied, “Thank you.” Justin began to walk away but before he completely left the scene, Pep abruptly shouted out, “Justin marry me and take all my babies! Vore me until I decay in your stomach acid! Let me-” To Pep’s dismay Justin had already left and she realized no one was listening. She sighed. “One of these days he will realize his love for me.” Pep chugged another mug of beer and slammed it against the table after she finished it. Thae began to consume the chicken, ravenously tearing it apart into shreds and popping pieces into his mouth. He always ate with his hands, for it is quite hard to use a fork when you don’t have opposable thumbs. He quickly cleared his plate, consuming the meat like a wild animal. His mind shut out everything else as he devoured his dinner, dopamine rushing through his brain. Within 15 minutes, all that is left on the plate is the skeleton of a chicken. He wiped his hands off with a napkin, pushed the plate away from him, and picked up his beer. He savored every last drop of it, and when he was done he put his glass down and relaxed. After 15 minutes of focused eating, he finally looked up. As usual, Pep was drunk and asleep on the table, which was covered with empty beer mugs. Thae looked around and realized everyone was leaving. He could hear the floorboards creak under the unstable steps of drunkards as they exited the tavern. The conversation slowly died down into nothingness, and Thae and Pep were the only ones left inside. He looked down at his watch and had a mini panic attack as he cried out, “11:00 PM? I better get home fast!” He got up from his stool, and almost ran out the door forgetting the fact that Pep was still drunk, asleep and alone. He quickly ran back inside but before he could reach her Justin walked over to her and said to Thae, “No worries, I’ll handle this. This happens a lot, I’m used to it.” Pep mumbled loudly, “Justin…” Justin sighed and shook his head as he cleaned up the beer mugs. Thae dashed out the door, and entered the dark, polluted city once more. He could hear distant screams and the sound of metal clanging against metal as he rushed to catch a bus. He sat on the bench by the bus stop anxiously, terrified of the people who patrolled the streets at such an hour. Distant footsteps are barely audible to Thae, but they’re still enough to send shivers down his spine. He scanned the area around him for possible threats, but none were found. Thankfully a pair of familiar headlights appeared over the horizon and slowly approached the bus stop. The second the bus doors opened, Thae raced inside and stationed himself in the nearest empty seat. For once he actually had a bus seat all to himself, and he relaxed in his seat as the bus driver traversed through the dark streets of Azulair. He looked down at his watch once more. It was 11:10, and Thae calculated that at this rate he would probably get home at around 11:20. He stared out the window as they drove through the city. Bright neon signs lit up the night sky and blurred into beautiful collages of color as the bus raced through the quiet city streets. The occasional gunfire and scream erupted from the darkness, which shocked Thae at first, but he quickly adjusted to the commonality of such noises. “There’s only so much I can do to help others.” He thought to himself, “I can’t save em all. No one can.” He continued to stare blankly outside, mesmerized by the beautiful colors of the city skyline, ignoring all the screams of pain and shots fired outside. He yawned loudly and his eyelids grew heavy. “I guess it wouldn’t hurt if I took just a small nap.” He mumbled to himself drowsily. He leaned against the window and would have fallen asleep if bus driver was not there. The bus came to an abrupt stop and threw Thae into the back of the seat in front of him. The bus driver yelled, “Sector A! Residential district!” Slowly but surely Thae got up, paid the bus fee, and hopped off the bus. He swiftly walked down the streets, got to his apartment, pulled the keys from his work bag, unlocked the door, got in and quickly locked the door shut behind him. He swiftly dropped his work bag on the floor, brushed his teeth, showered, and slipped under the covers. He turned off the light switch located next to his bed, and entered into a deep sleep. Thae awoke from his sleep, refreshed and ready for the day to come, but the second he opened his eyes, he knew something was wrong. Instead of the familiar beige ceiling he was used to seeing in the mornings, he saw a cold, gray concrete. He quickly sat up in his bed, and scanned his surroundings. There was concrete and iron bars as far as he could see. Thoughts rushed to his head as he leaped out of bed, “Am I in prison? Why am I here? Am I just dreaming?” He tried to pinch himself, but remembered he didn’t have fingers so instead he smacked himself in the face. He didn’t wake up. The room was just like him, sad and lonely. There was a toilet, a sink, a mirror, a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and a large iron door surrounded by thick iron bars. He dashed to the iron bars and began to look around. He could spot other people, each of them were still fast asleep in their prisons. He thought to himself, “I wonder if they were kidnapped too. They probably still think they’re at home.” Suddenly footsteps echoed through the hallway and Thae panicked. He hopped into bed and attempted to pretend to be asleep, but alas to no avail. A women in a police uniform reached the cell and unlocked the door. Thae refused to give up his act. The women called out, “No need to be afraid, we already know you’re awake. Come follow us, we’ll explain what’s going on.” Slowly, Thae rolled off his bed onto his feet and faced the woman, who was flanked by two bodyguards who wore dark sunglasses and heavy protective vests. She spoke confidently, “Hi, the name’s Chsn8r, but just call me Chsn. I’m the head of the defense department here in Azulair, nice to meet you.” Thae reached out his hoof to shake her hand. Her grip was incredibly firm. She nodded towards one of the bodyguards, who looked like a purple stuffed animal, “This is RE2PECT.” She nodded towards the other bodyguard. “This is Waldo.” A man in a red and white hat, and red and white shirt and pants waved. Before Thae could say anything, Chsn quickly said, “Come on, follow me. I’ll explain things to you as we walk.” Thae followed obediently, exiting his cell to enter the narrow corridor. He followed Chsn as they traversed the prison. Soon they reach an airlock, and as Chsn enters the passcode she says, “So as to why you’re here.” The airlock clicked and the door opened. It revealed a long flight of stairs, which seemed to spiral downwards for eternity. As they descended Chsn began her speech, “You’ve been chosen to participate in this year’s Red Warfare tournament. The council has been looking for candidates ever since the new year began. We’ve surveyed the public masses, in hopes of finding the extraordinary within the ordinary. After what we’ve gathered, it seems like you’re one of your best candidates.” Their footsteps echoed as they walked down the stairs. Thae stared at Chsn, confused by what she was saying. He thought to himself, “How am I the best candidate? I can’t fight! Is she insane?” Thae quickly blurts out before she can continue her speech, “What makes you think I’m such a good candidate? I’ve never touched a weapon in my life! Well unless you count Nref guns, but that was when I was 11 years old and I definitely did not mean to shoot my mom in the eye.” Chsn looked back at Thae behind her dark sunglasses. “Look here Thaecrasis, it’s not a matter of just brawns. We need brains too, and it looks like you got that in abundance.” Thae blushed. A few moments pass and they reach the bottom of the winding stairs. Another door lays ahead of them, and Chsn pulls out her keycard as she approaches it. She scans the keycard, and unlocks the door. “Alright Thaecrasis, let’s go. If you need anything during your training I’ll be here for you, no matter the circumstance. Come on now, no need to be shy.” Thae slowly approached the open door, anxious of what was to come. Chsn continued her speech of encouragement, “Say hello to your new teammates Thaecrasis, you’ll be stuck with them for a while. I wish you the best of luck, for the days to come will not be easy, but I believe in you. I wouldn’t have elected you to participate in the games if it wasn’t that way.” Thae stepped into the room and the door locked shut behind his back. The people already in the room were sitting in cheap plastic chairs, staring at Thae as he awkwardly stood at the front of the room. A strange man with an apple for a head got up from his chair and greeted him. “Nice to meet you Thaecrasis, my name is Lexperiment, but you can just call me Lex.” He said in a gravely voice. Lex smiled at him, and Thae smiled back. Lex led Thae to the rest of the group and said to him, “Welcome to the team.”

[ber39james]

7 Essential Time Management Skills That Will Improve Your Life

Time is the great equalizer—everybody gets the same twenty-four hours each day. Making productive use of that time can mean the difference between getting things done and scrambling to keep up. These time management tips will help you streamline your day and work smarter.

1Do a time audit.

Do you get to the end of every workday and wonder where the time went? Maybe you wonder why you didn’t manage to accomplish as much as you’d hoped you would. You could be wasting more time than you realize. There may well be a discrepancy between how you think you spend your time and how you actually spend it. A time audit can be an eye-opener!

Here’s a simple method for conducting a time audit.

Get some sort of timer that you can set to go off every thirty minutes. (The alarm app on your phone could do the trick.)

Begin the timer and go about your day. Try not to think about the timer—just let it run quietly in the background.

When the timer goes off, write down what you’re doing at that very moment. Be honest! If you’re checking Facebook or sending your best friend a funny text, own up to it.

Set the timer for another thirty minutes and repeat the process until the end of your day.

Review how you’ve spent your time. How often were you caught doing something that wasn’t productive?

Try conducting an audit every day for a week to get a good overview of how you’re spending your time. (You can vary the time between check-ins so that you don’t begin to anticipate the alarm going off every thirty minutes.) If you find that you’ve been spending too much time checking your email, scrolling through your social media feed, or chatting with co-workers, you’ll know exactly where you have to make adjustments.

2Block out distractions

Now that you have a better idea of what’s distracting you, it’s time to block that thing out. If social media is your downfall, for instance, try a productivity app that blocks online distractions. FocusMe, Cold Turkey, and SelfControl are a few available options. If you’re working on a writing project, try going into fullscreen mode to prevent yourself from opening tabs or answering desktop notifications.

Speaking of notifications, turn them off. Unless it’s critical to your job, odds are good you don’t need to be alerted every time a new email comes in or someone interacts with you on social media.

3Schedule yourself

Worrying about how you’ll fit all your tasks into the average workday can put a serious strain on your productivity. When we’re stressed, we struggle to stay productive, which can lead us to work longer hours to meet deadlines. Who needs that?

To-do lists can become overwhelming if you’ve got a lot to accomplish. Instead, use your favorite calendar tool (or even a good old-fashioned datebook) to schedule yourself. You might set aside an hour for answering emails, two for researching and outlining that important report for next week’s meeting, one for a lunch date with a colleague, and so on. If you have a shared corporate calendar, all the better. You can remind your colleagues to interrupt you only when absolutely necessary if you have time blocked off for important tasks. (See tip five!)

You’ll be surprised what time blocking will do for your productivity. For example, if you’re in the habit of answering emails as they come in, you may well be interrupting your own workflow to do it. That means that after you’ve dropped everything to answer that email, you’ll have to take extra time to reorient yourself to the task you’d been working on before it came in. Scheduling yourself allows you to set your priorities in advance and avoid being distracted by less important matters.

4Avoid multitasking

You may think you’re good at multitasking, but odds are you’re wrong. When you divide your focus between tasks, you’re actually diverting attention from one task to another and using more brain bandwidth. You’ll perform better if you give your full attention to one task at a time.

Grouping similar tasks can also keep you in the right mindset. You might, for instance, group your writing tasks together and do them during one particular block of time. Administrative tasks can fall into another time block. Need to be active on social media? Cool. Block time for using a scheduler like Buffer to queue up your posts for the day so you won’t feel the constant need to check in.

Here’s a tip: Keep a small notebook handy when you’re working. When you suddenly remember another task you need to do (“Whoops! Did I schedule my electric bill payment?”), jot it down. That way, you won’t forget that important thing, but you won’t interrupt your jam, either.

5Insist that others respect your time.

You know that meeting you were asked to attend that had almost no relevance to you? The one where you had nothing to contribute? That’s an hour of your time you’ll never get back. Get out of those do-nothing meetings. Every meeting should have to justify its existence, and every meeting organizer should have to justify your required attendance, especially if not attending the meeting would ultimately make you more productive.

The same goes for chatty coworkers. You have a right to work time free from unnecessary interruptions, so ask for it. You could say something like “I have a lot of trouble concentrating sometimes, and interruptions take me out of the flow when I’m working. Could we save chit-chat for when we’re off the clock?”

6Keep your “call to action” in mind.

What do you want to get out of that phone call you’re about to make or that meeting you’re about to schedule? You need to know what you’re asking for, or at least what you hope to achieve, before you dive in. Otherwise, you’ll end up spending time in conversations and meetings that aren’t ultimately productive.

Take a few minutes after meetings and phone calls to reflect on whether you achieved the outcome you were hoping for. If you didn’t, plan your next steps so you can attain it. You’ll be more prepared when the opportunity to address the issue comes around again.

7Get enough down time and rest.

Taking a break when it’s crunch time may seem counterproductive, but one study found that lack of sleep is costing the U.S. workforce $411 billion annually. You’re not at your best when you’re sleep-deprived.

And don’t shy away from taking your vacation time. Skipping vacation is actually bad for your health. Not only that, but taking time to relax can make you more productive. When you’re well rested and refreshed, you’re far more likely to tackle your tasks with focus and enthusiasm.

Now, go out there and get things done!

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